


The Lightning Strike

by covo728



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Hurt Peter Parker, Panic Attacks, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Protective Peter Parker, Theres some Peter and Steve friction in here fair warning, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, author does not know how to tag so she will just leave it at that, cursing, let peter parker say fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covo728/pseuds/covo728
Summary: The day Thanos snapped his fingers, Peter was far, far away, surrounded by strangers, and with no hope of getting home. He could do nothing as the last infinity stone slid into place on a gauntlet covered hand, and could do nothing as Thanos disappeared from the face of the Earth.He could do nothing as one by one, the heroes fell around him. He could do nothing as Tony Stark fell to his knees and crumbled before his eyes, cradling Peter's head in his hands.No, Peter could not do anything then. But he could do something now. And maybe that would be enough. To bring everyone back, to save his aunt and friends and hero, he would stop at nothing. Time and space be damned.This time, he would be right here, and he would fight to the bloody end before he let the universe take anything else from him.That would have to be enough.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Nebula & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 231
Collections: Irondad Big Bang 2020





	The Lightning Strike

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody! Thanks for coming! So this fic is a part of the Irondad Big Bang 2020, and it has been in the works for literally like months, so I'm freaking out about posting this. It's the longest thing I've ever written. And I now know far too much about Marvel lore. But anyway!
> 
> The art for this fic is by @slowly-losing-my-mind on tumblr, so please go check her out. She worked really hard on not just the two pics in the fic, but also the promo pic, so please go show her some love.
> 
> If you want to find me, I'm @booksxtvxsupernatural on tumblr, and yes, I am aware that that is the dumbest and cringiest username I could possibly have, lol.
> 
> Okay, that's it! Enjoy, drop a kudo or comment if you liked it, and thanks for reading!

\---

WHAT IF THIS STORM ENDS?

\---

There was, in Peter’s astute opinion, absolutely nothing worse than failing your first intergalactic space mission.

Thanos had disappeared in a cosmic cloud of smoke, leaving the ragtag group of heroes slumping in defeat. Quill shook with barely contained rage when he discovered that not only had Thanos escaped, but he’d also gotten the time stone from Doctor Strange. It had taken several minutes for him to calm down again, but even then he’d stormed away from the group in a huff.

To be honest, the newcomers were the least of Peter’s concerns. Mr. Stark was bleeding out, and in Peter's mind, that took precedence.

The man in question was sitting against a pile of debris when Peter finally made it over to him. He looked… bad. Really bad. His suit was so torn up that the nanotech couldn’t reform over his body, and his helmet was completely destroyed, lying in the rubble a few feet away. Half of his chest was exposed, and one gauntlet was missing. Not to mention that there was a giant hole in his abdomen where Thanos had shoved Mr. Stark’s own suit into his side.

Peter scrambled to where Mr. Stark lay against the rubble, hand shaking as he pressed it against the wound. “Mr. Stark, I-I don’t know what to do, tell me what to do- oh my God that’s _a lot_ of blood-”

“I’m fine kid, just- agh- just help me sit up a little.” Mr. Stark tried to push himself up with one arm, the other clutching at his side. Peter rushed to help him, placing a steadying hand on his back as he maneuvered them into a better position. The only indication of the man’s pain was a slight hissing noise from between his teeth. “Thanks, kid.”

“What can I do? You’re going to bleed out at this rate…”

“Not helping, kid. Positive words only, please and thank you.” He grunted as he lifted his remaining gauntlet, spraying something crystal-like on the wound and sealing it.. “That should hold it for now.”

Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. If Mr. Stark said it would hold, then it would hold. Still, he kept a close eye on him as he helped him stand, and stayed at his shoulder. Just in case. 

He was opening his mouth to speak when the alien woman Quill was with stood up a little straighter. The hairs on the back of Peter’s neck started to rise.

“Something’s happening.”

He tensed, ready for another fight, when he noticed the tips of her fingers flaking apart at the edges. He blinked to clear his eyes. He must have hit his head one too many times, because the woman was disappearing right before his eyes. The rest of her arms started to flake off, and her torso followed soon after, until her only recognizable feature was her face, though even that was crumbling to dust. She glanced around the group, more in shock than anything else, her eyes wide until they too began to break off into small flakes. Then she just… _shattered._ Bits and pieces of fleshy debris floated off into the atmosphere, leaving no trace of her presence behind. 

She was just… just _gone._

Before he could begin to process that, the large man behind Quill sucked in a harsh breath, staring at his right hand with cold dread as it disappeared from his body, followed by the rest of his arm. He looked up at Quill, horrified.

“Quill?” He asked. The man looked at a loss as his arms crumbled before him. He clenched his jaw in a tight grimace before glancing down at his flaking chest, a broken gasp tearing from his lips. Then, he shattered. 

It was too much. The blood pounded in Peter’s ears. Too much. Shock gripped his mind and turned it to stone. He was unthinking, unmoving, as the dust drifted lazily into the sky. 

A few feet away, Quill made a sound. He wrenched his eyes away from the remainder of the goliath to see Quill staring at Mr. Stark, , fear making his breaths come in short pants. Mr. Stark took a step towards him, just right of Peter, watching as Quill’s hands turned to dust. 

Distantly, he heard Mr. Stark say “Steady, Quill,” but it was lost in the suffocating silence and the pounding blood in his ears. Quill looked toward him, and something akin to resignation clouded his features as his chest flaked away.

“Oh man…” said Quill, and then he was gone.

Three down, how many more to go?

“Tony.”

He didn’t need to turn around to know what was happening. His body had other plans..

He faced Dr. Strange slowly, in time to see him holding Mr. Stark’s gaze with such an intensity that one could forget his legs were starting to disappear.

What had he said to them earlier? _‘We’re in the endgame now.’_

From the ground, Dr. Strange took another deep breath. “There was no other way,” he said, and managed to hold Mr. Stark’s gaze a second longer before his eyes drifted over to Peter’s. His breath caught as the man’s chest broke apart, but he kept his gaze locked onto Peter.

“There was no other way,” Dr. Strange repeated, and his eyes bored into Peter even after they were gone.

_‘There was no other way.’_

No other way for what?

“Kid?”

Peter shook himself out of his shock. They could deal with questions later. There were more pressing concerns.

He turned to look at Mr. Stark, and his world stopped turning.

Mr. Stark was staring at him, his body crumbling beneath him. He took a staggering step forward, arm outstretched, reaching for Peter, but fell to his knees when he couldn’t support himself anymore. Peter caught him, lowering him to the ground as gently as he could manage.

“Pete-”

“Mr, Stark-”

“It’s okay, kid, you’re okay-”

“Mr. Stark you’re-”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay-”

“Oh my God you’re dying-”

“It’s alright Pete, I promise, it’s gonna be ok, you’ll be okay.”

“Mr. Stark…” He clawed uselessly at the man’s chest, trying to hold on to some part of him, hoping that it would keep him from falling apart. The tears clouded his vision, but he thought he saw a streak of wetness down Mr. Stark’s cheek.

Mr. Stark’s hand- or at least, what was left of it- came up to rest on Peter’s cheek. “It’s gonna be okay Pete, okay? Just… Do me a favor, okay? Tell Pep I love her. And I’m sorry for missing our reservation, she’ll probably be pissed, but… just… just tell her I love her, okay?”

Peter tried, he really tried, but he couldn’t find any words to answer. The little pale flakes had reached Mr. Stark’s torso. There wasn’t much time left. He whimpered pathetically as the metal under his hands began to disappear.

“Hey Peter… look at me buddy.”

He dragged his eyes up, and through the blurry mess of tears he could see Mr. Stark watching him. With the remainder of his hand, he swiped at the tear tracks on Peter’s cheeks. “They’re going to need you, kid. I know, you’re young and you’re not ready, but they’re going to need someone, and that someone’s gotta be you, so just,” the dust crept up his neck, and he choked on his next breath, “just be you, kid. You’re the best of all of us.” He smiled, and a tear traced its way down his grimy cheek.

A moment later, he was gone.

Peter clutched at the dust as it tried to escape into the wind. He looked down at his hand, and watched as Mr. Stark’s ashes filtered through his fingers.

[Art](https://writing-in-my-spare-time.tumblr.com/post/621215267463315456)

\---

He must have blacked out at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was inside a spaceship, and a blue woman was staring down at him as he sat curled on the floor. She watched him quizzically, tilting her head this way and that, as if he were an enigma she couldn’t solve.

“Where…” Peter coughed, trying to soothe his dry throat. He tried again. “Where are we,” he croaked.

The woman remained silent for a moment, studying him, before turning on her heel and walking towards the front of the ship. “In space. You were catatonic after they disintegrated. I had to drag you on board.”

For a moment, just a moment, Peter wondered what she was talking about, before the image of Mr. Stark on the ground pervaded his vision, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. A small whimper escaped his lips. The woman stopped, looking over her shoulder. “Do you remember?” She asked. Peter managed a stiff nod. Seemingly satisfied, the woman turned around again and headed for what Peter could only assume was the cockpit, leaving him alone.

Hours passed. He sat with his head in his hands, trying not to think about Mr. Stark, about what he could’ve done, should’ve done, to help. He couldn’t even offer comfort to the man who had taken him under his wing, given him a suit, given him support whenever he needed help. Mr. Stark had needed him, and Peter had failed him miserably.

_If I’d gotten the gauntlet off Thanos. If I’d stopped Dr. Strange from getting beamed up. If I’d been quicker to get to the fight from the bus._

_If if if if if if if if-_

A pouch of water landed in his lap, startling him. The blue woman stood over him again, food in hand. “You need to eat.” She said. 

Numbly, Peter took the water and drank, relishing the cool liquid against his burning throat. The woman put the food down next to him and began to walk back towards the cockpit.

“Wait!” 

She turned, and Peter pushed himself off the floor, picking up the food. “Who are you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and Peter stood stock still as she looked him over. “Nebula,” she said, slowly, and turned back towards the cockpit. He scrambled to follow her, careful of the food in his hand.

“How did you find us?” Peter asked, walking alongside her now. She seemed friendly enough, if a bit prickly, but she had helped him, and he really didn’t have much choice but to trust her since the others and Mr. Stark disappeared in a cloud of dust, of ashes, crawling over his body as he spoke his last words, _you’re the best of all of us-_

No. He could not afford to have a panic attack in space. He was Spider-Man. He could do this.

Nebula, apparently deciding that he was trustworthy enough, said “I was Thanos’ prisoner. When I escaped, I discovered that he was going to Titan, and followed him. You just happened to be there.” She shrugged. “After… after Quill and the others turned to dust, you were the only one left. I could not leave you.” She glanced at him again, quickly looking away when he met her eyes. “My sister would not want that, and I would like to honor her memory, if nothing else.” Without another word, Nebula strode into the cockpit, Peter following close behind.

The first thing he noticed was the view. Stars glittered in the distance, clouds of cosmic gasses turned space into a smorgasbord of color, and everything else was filled in with an inky blackness so complete it seemed to consume everything it touched. The sight took Peter’s breath away.

The second thing he noticed was the array of instruments lining the control panel. There were so many knobs, buttons, dials, wheels, gauges, levers, and handles that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and he could hear the gears in his head start turning again with all the possibilities the instruments held. 

The final thing he noticed was Nebula, seated in the pilot’s seat, and the copilot’s seat, which remained empty. Peter made to sit down, but halted when Nebula shot out her hand and held him back. 

“You should not sit there unless you know how to pilot a ship,” she looked up at him, “and you do not know how to pilot a ship.”

“I won’t touch anything!” He argued, trying to push past her arm. She forced him back again.

“You will. I know that look in your eyes. You look like Rocket when he has found a new weapon to experiment with.” Nebula gave him a hard look. “Those situations often end with an explosion.”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere, he relented and took a seat on the floor, munching on… something. It tasted like sausage, if a bit slimy, but he’d take what he could get.

They sat in silence, watching the stars go by. Peter’s mind kept drifting back to Mr. Stark, and he had to force himself back to the situation at hand too many times. He imagined Nebula must be doing the same, because every few minutes she would shake her head slightly and focus her eyes on the stars ahead of her.

Peter stared out at the stars ahead of them, watching them get closer before disappearing as the ship passed them by. Besides the humming of the ship’s engine, all was silent.

“We are low on fuel.”

He started, and turned to see Nebula glancing at one of the gauges on the screen in front of her.

“W-What?”

She sighed, and flicked some switches on a control panel to her right. “Quill had not planned for a long journey. The fuel was already low when they landed. There are no reserves on board. We will not make it to the nearest fueling station.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “We will be stranded in space until another ship hails our distress signal. Although,” she glanced back down at the screens in front of her, “I do not know how long the signal will broadcast. The ship was damaged in the battle, and the power is low. As it stands now, we have two more days until the fuel runs dry, and three more days after that until power runs out.”

Peter stared at her uncomprehendingly. It didn’t take a genius to find the meaning behind her words.

_We’re going to die in space. I am going to DIE in SPACE. I survived Titan just to die alone in space. Oh my God I’m never going to see May again, I’m never going to see Ned again, I never got to deliver Mr. Stark’s message, I never got to ask MJ out, oh God I’m going to die alone-_

“Peter!”

He jerked his head up from where it had fallen between his knees. Nebula had stood from the pilot’s chair and was now crouched in front of him, gripping his shoulders painfully.

“Peter, you need to breathe. We are safe, you are not going to die, I will not allow it. Breathe, Peter. Good, very good. Steady. You are alright. Just… just keep breathing. There you are. Good. Good job, Peter.”

His breaths came out shaky, but even. Nebula stayed in front of him, grounding him with her hands, until he could focus his gaze on hers. He swallowed. “Thank you.”

She nodded, but stayed put. “You are welcome.”

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, before Peter worked up the courage to ask “How do you know my name?”

Nebula relaxed her hold on him and sat back, bringing her legs up so she could rest her arms on her knees. “I heard Stark call you Peter.” She said simply, and boy, did just hearing his name bring on a wave of emotions. He gritted his teeth and forced the pain away.

“Oh, right.”

Another few minutes passed. Nebula stared at a place on the floor, and Peter looked out at the stars, running calculations in his head to keep his mind busy.

“Hey Nebula… Have you thought of rerouting the power from the other parts of the ship to help boost the distress signal?”

She looked up at him. “Yes.”

Peter felt his cheeks redden, and he looked down. “Oh. Sorry, of course you did. It didn’t work?”

Her eyebrows (well, eye _brow_ ) drew together, and he felt like a specimen under a microscope. “I did not try. I am not familiar with this ship, and I could not understand the intricacies of its design.”

_Oh._ Peter hesitantly brought his gaze up to meet her eyes. “Can I try?”

\---

By the time the fuel ran out, Peter had successfully directed all the power in the ship to two main functions: the oxygen filtration system and the distress signal. They had sealed off all other parts of the ship besides the cockpit and the main cabin so that they could shut off the filtration system in all extraneous parts of the ship. Not even the lights were on; Peter worked with his mask on so that he could see the wires in the ship’s floor in the darkness.

Nebula helped him as best she could. She wasn’t as well versed in engineering as Peter, but she could follow his logic, and could help reroute different wires and fix certain circuits that he pointed out to her. She also forced him to eat and get some rest, which was good, because Peter would have kept working for days straight if she didn’t pry him away from his work.

His time spent in the bowels of the ship paid off; Peter squeezed out every last ounce of power he could find , managing to boost the duration of the signal to ten days instead of three. Nebula had made sure to direct them toward the nearest inhabited planet, so that when their fuel cut out, they would at least be drifting towards some sort of civilization. If they were lucky, there would be enough traffic in that area for someone to pick up their signal.

Their second problem arose when Nebula went to the minifridge in the main cabin area. She grabbed a container and handed it to Peter, who was knee deep in the ship’s floor. “Our food supply is running low. We need to start rationing food intake.”

Peter winced at that. He already needed to eat extra due to his spider metabolism. Cutting down on his already small portions would start to do some serious harm.

“Alright.” He said instead, and saved half of his container of food for later, preparing himself for the inevitable argument his stomach would put up.

Days turned into a week, and only when Peter was absolutely satisfied that he had rerouted as much power as he could to the distress beacon did he stop working. Without something to focus on, his thoughts drifted back to the events on Titan, turning his dreams into visions of Mr. Stark’s ashes coating his body and suffocating him.

Most of the time, he woke up screaming.

Nebula was his only constant. She talked him through his nightmares, helped patch up his wounds from the fight on Titan (though they were healing just fine on their own, thanks to his accelerated healing factor), and kept him occupied during the long hours in space. He told her about the spider bite, and she told him about her childhood with her sister Gamora.

It was peaceful, at least for a while. Peter taught her how to play last letter, and that occupied them for awhile, until the grumbling in Peter’s stomach got to be too loud, and then Nebula would force a bag of dried fruit on him. He was losing weight fast, and Nebula had started to watch him with a more critical eye. He noticed how little she ate, how she gave him the biggest portions before serving herself. The one time he tried to bring it up, she had brushed him off and thrust a pouch of food at him.

“I need less food than you. Most of my body is metal, anyway.” And that had been that. He was too hungry to argue anyway.

\---

Eleven days into their journey, and a decision had to be made.

“It’s either wait for both the beacon and the filtration system to give out, or shut down the beacon and buy ourselves a few more days,” he told her.

The distress signal stopped broadcasting an hour later.

\---

They had one more day until their oxygen ran out.

Peter felt more like a skeleton than a person. He must’ve looked like one too, because Nebula had taken to hovering over him wherever he went. Hunger was a constant companion, and the ever-present growling of his stomach prevented him from getting any restful sleep. 

He’d taken to sitting on the floor of the cockpit, gazing out at the open space around them. When he’d first seen it, he had thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Now, it just looked like an empty void, swallowing the colorful clouds of gas and stars until there was nothing but an inky blackness.

It would swallow him too, soon enough.

His eyes closed of their own volition, and he leaned back against the copilots chair. After the fuel had run out, Nebula had let him set up shop there whenever he pleased. Most of the time, he had poured over the ship’s schematics, searching for the best way to reroute all the energy in the ship. Nowadays, he just stared out the window and retreated into the recesses of his mind, trying to remember how May sounded when she laughed, or his secret handshake with Ned, or how the light caught in MJ’s hair, or Mr. Stark’s smile when Peter walked into the lab. 

Dimly, he felt a blanket being draped over him, and a cold hand pass through his hair. Nebula. Peter wondered what she would do when he died. Would she set his body adrift in space, or let him rot in the cockpit for the rest of time? It was a depressing thought.

He drifted in a light doze, not quite awake but not quite asleep either. It was peaceful, this way. The darkness of space couldn’t get him here, and neither could his nightmares. He was tired of the nightmares. If he kept panicking after each one, he was going to use up their oxygen supply quicker than he’d hoped.

Something in front of his eyelids made him stir. A light, bright and blinding, even with his eyes closed. Peter blinked them open, wincing as the light struck him full force. He put his hand up to shield himself, and slowly turned back towards the window, squinting and blinking to keep from overwhelming his eyes.

Through the light, a figure appeared, dressed in blue and red, golden hair framing her head like a halo. He rubbed his eyes a little to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, because honestly, he was looking at a real life angel, and while he was pretty sure he wasn’t dead, there was always that small chance that he died in his sleep, and God, wouldn’t that just _really fucking suck._ But she seemed real enough, and he was pretty sure angels weren’t supposed to dress in red and blue armor. 

He raised his hand slowly and waved. “H-hi…” Peter rasped.

The woman smiled down at him, and for a moment Peter thought she was God. “Hey kid. Need a lift?”

\---

Carol set them down in front of the Compound as gently as she could, but even still it was a bumpy landing. Without power, there was no landing gear, so the ship wound up listing to the side instead of landing upright. Carol pried open the hatch, and Nebula lifted Peter carefully in her arms. Under normal circumstances, he would object to being carried like a small child, but seeing as he couldn’t stand without his legs giving under him, he decided not to argue.

A small group was racing across the lawn towards them. Peter clung to Nebula’s jacket instinctively. Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was eat some real food and sleep in a real bed. Nebula must have understood, because she curled her arms tighter around his body and pressed his head against her shoulder protectively. Carol flanked them, and together the approached the Compound.

Nebula stopped walking as the group ran up to them. She hefted Peter in her arms and hugged him close.

“Who are you?”

Peter knew that voice. He had grown up with that voice. He had sat through video lectures with that voice. Turning his head, Peter watched as Captain America slowed to a stop in front of them, arms crossed and face set in a harsh frown.

Nebula raised her chin. “He needs medical attention.”

The Captain glanced down at him, and Peter had never felt as young as he did under Captain America’s gaze. Recognition clouded his features, and with it, a dawning horror. “Is that Spider-Man?”

“Peter!”

He choked on his next breath. Tears welled up in his eyes as Pepper Potts tore through the crowd towards him. Nebula took a cautious step back, but Ms. Potts practically threw herself at them, and Peter reached out a hand to grab her sweater.

“Oh my God, Peter, you’re alive! When I heard you and Tony were on that ship I-I… oh God, I can’t believe you’re alive...” She caressed his cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had slipped down his face. 

Peter managed a smile, and leaned into her touch. “Hey Ms. Potts. Glad you’re okay.”

She smiled through her tears, and kissed his forehead lightly. “Me too, Peter.” She ran a hand through his hair, then doubled back and felt his face. Her smile turned into a worried frown. “You’re burning up. Let’s get you inside, okay?”

“Yes, please.” Her smile flickered back to life, and she planted another kiss on his forehead.

Nebula followed her as she trekked towards the Compound. The rest of the group followed. Another voice piped up from his right.

“Nebula.”

Nebula paused and looked down. Peter followed her gaze. A raccoon stood on two legs, dressed in leather, watching them with intelligent eyes. Nebula sucked in a breath.

“Rocket,” she said, and _oh, the fuzzy creature with the weapons, right_ , “you’re alive.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound very happy about it. “The others?”

They shared a look. Rocket lowered his head. “Right.” He flexed his hand a little, looking back up at Nebula. “We’ll talk more inside, yeah?”

She nodded, and Rocket nodded back, before turning back towards the Compound. Nebula adjusted her grip on him, and they followed in his footsteps. Peter tugged on her jacket. She glanced down at him. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, and he knew she would be okay.

A hand landed on his knee, then, and Peter turned to find Colonel Rhodes smiling down at him.

“Hey kid. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Colonel Rhodes.” Tears threatened again, but this time he held them back. “You too.”

Colonel Rhodes gave him a brief nod and turned away, but kept his hand on Peter’s knee. Ms. Pott’s hand held his tightly on the other side. The light from the Compound drew closer, and with it, a man in a black tux, hair frazzled and face red as he raced out to meet them at the door. Peter felt the tears fall again. “Happy,” he said, and a sob wracked his body as the man ran towards them.

“Kid. Jesus Christ, you’re alive.” He took Peter’s face in his hands and examined him as if he’d never seen him before. “I couldn’t get in touch with Tony, and then both your suits went offline… it’s been weeks, kid, what the hell were you thinking?!”

Peter looked up at him through blurry eyes. “I’m sorry, Happy, I’m so sorry-”

Happy shook his head and wrapped Peter up in his arms. “Stop, shut up, you don’t get to apologize. It’s my job to keep you out of trouble, that’s what Tony pays me for.”

It was meant as a joke, and in any other circumstance it would be a good way to relieve the tension, but now all it did was throw Peter into another bout of wretched sobs. Happy pulled away quickly, face morphing into concern and confusion, not comprehending the pain that name brought with it. He brought his hands back to Peter’s face. “Kid? What’s wrong, Are you hurt? Do you need-”

Ms. Potts cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just get him inside, Happy. We can talk later.”

_Thank God,_ Peter thought, watching as Happy reluctantly drew away. He’d never seen the man look so frazzled before. He’d always been busy, working security for Mr. Stark or driving Peter around or running errands for Ms. Potts. Now, with nothing to do, he almost seemed… lost.

Colonel Rhodes seemed to pick up on his distress as well, because he put a hand on Happy’s shoulder and told him, “why don’t you go inside and help prep the MedBay, Peter’s going to need as much help as we can get him,” and Happy was off and running before the Colonel had even finished his sentence, dirt kicking up behind him. 

Ms. Potts squeezed his hand gently, and Peter turned his attention to her. She smiled, and even though it was strained, it was comforting, too. He felt his lips quirk up.

“Welcome back, Peter.”

Together, they entered the Compound.

\---

THE SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE FLAGS

\---

Peter was kept in the MedBay for a week before he was cleared. Happy, Ms. Potts, and Colonel Rhodes took shifts; whenever one left to go sleep, or shower, or eat, another would take their place. Not that he needed much company- he spent most of his time sleeping, and when he wasn’t sleeping he was scarfing down food, trying to bring his body weight back up.

The doctors told him he had lost 27 pounds. Peter thought it had been more.

When he was finally released, he and Ms. Potts (“please just call me Pepper, Peter, you’re making me feel old,”) took the elevator up to Mr. Stark’s private floor. It was exactly how it was when he’d last been there. The same sofa, same TV, same kitchen counter, same view outside, same everything. For some reason, he’d expected it to have changed when Mr. Stark disappeared, as if the world would have stopped functioning until he returned.

Pepper walked through the common room to the residential wing, Peter trailing after her. She pushed open the door next to Mr. Stark’s bedroom, and Peter had to pause for a moment before entering the threshold. The memories hit him full force, and he sucked in a breath to brace himself for the oncoming storm.

_“Like it?”_

_“Like it?! Mr. Stark, this is… this is incredible! You even painted the walls like-”_

_“The night sky, complete with the constellations, including yours, Leo, which is right over your bed. Thought you’d like that. That was my idea, by the way. Pepper helped with the bed and all that practical stuff, but what’s a car without all the bells and whistles right?”_

_“Mr. Stark… I don’t know what to say…”_

_“Perks of being a Junior Avenger, kid. Get used to it. I had this room set up months ago, I’ve just been waiting for you to actually use it.”_

_“Seriously?! Oh man, I’ve had my own room at the AVENGERS COMPOUND and I didn’t even know?! Mr. Stark, why didn’t you tell me?!”_

_“Nu-uh, zip it underoos._ You _turned_ me _down, remember that?”_

_“Yeah, but-”_

_“But what? You’d have reconsidered? Don’t lie to the best liar in town kid, save your breath. You made the right call anyway, so don’t sweat it.”_

_“...thanks, Mr. Stark. For everything.”_

_“Uh-huh, sure kid, enjoy the room. Dinner’ll be ready in ten, if you’re not ready I’m giving yours to Rhodey, and that man can eat a bear as an appetizer. Pepper’s joining us, by the way. She’s taken a shine to you- I don’t know how you managed that one, kid, it took me ten years and some change to get her to agree to marry me, and she still barely tolerates me. Anyway, I’d hurry up, Pete, it’s rude to keep a lady waiting.”_

_“Right Mr. Stark, I’ll be right out.”_

Peter bit his cheek, and the pain grounded him enough to chase the pain away. Pepper was fussing around with his clothes, trying to find a pair of sweats and a T-shirt that he could wear. He went over to his bed at sat down heavily. The soft mattress gave under his weight.

“This should do for now.” Pepper held out some sweatpants and a shirt for him to take. He glanced at the red shirt, and felt the tears well up again. ‘MIT’ was printed on the front. Tony had bought it for him when they’d gone for a tour a month ago.

Pepper, oblivious to his inner turmoil, walked towards the door. “Get changed, and then we’ll have dinner, how do you feel about pasta? I’ve got some-”

“Pepper.”

She stopped, turning back to face him. He took a deep breath, but couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“When… when _it_ happened, and everyone started to-to disappear… Mr. Stark, he um, he-”

“Peter, you don’t have to do this-”

“No, I do.”

She started, and watched him from the doorway as he stared at her, wide-eyed, imploring her to understand. “You deserve to know. He _wanted you to know._ ”

Peter waited, watching for a reaction. Pepper bit her lip, seemed to gather herself, then slowly made her way to the bed. She sat gingerly, as if he were a frightened animal who might spook at any sudden movement. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll listen.”

He took another breath, and nodded, steeling himself. “When he… when he first started to disappear, I… I didn’t even realize what it meant. I’d seen the others, I knew what was happening, but it, it didn’t register to me. And when it did I just-I-I just _panicked_ and he started to fall over and I thought if I held on to him then maybe it wouldn’t happen, y’know, maybe-maybe he would make it because he’s _Iron-Man_ and he always wins, he always gets back up, no matter what. But he didn’t. A-And I didn’t know what to do or what to say, but he just kept saying _‘you’re okay’_ and he just- he was dying and he was worried about me while he was dying and he held me and- and-” 

Peter cut off with a choking sob. His chest felt tight as he sucked in breath after breath, trying to gather what was left of his thoughts. Pepper was rubbing his back in soothing circles, and it hurt because _Pepper didn’t know, she still didn’t know-_

“And he wanted you to know- h-he wanted you to know that he was sorry he missed your reservation, he said you’d pro-probably be pissed about it, but h-he was so-sorry anyway. And he w-wanted you t-t-to know that he loved you, he really l-loved you, Pepper, he wanted y-you t-to know th-that.”

It was done. He’d delivered his message. His job was complete. Pepper was crying beside him, taking painful, gasping breaths as her body shuddered with the force of her sobs. “Oh God, Tony…” She whispered.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Pepper, I c-couldn’t save him, I-I c-couldn’t do a- _anything-”_

“Shh, no no no Peter, there was nothing you could do, please don’t do that, don’t do that to yourself-”

“If I’d gotten the g-gauntlet-”

“No, _no,_ Peter, none of this is your fault. If you start thinking like that, it’ll tear you apart from the inside out. Please Peter don’t do this.”

“I-I-I ju-just _miss him,_ and I miss May, a-and Ned, a-and-and-”

“Shh, it’s okay Pete, it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay.”

She brought him into her arms, and he cried into her shoulder, staining her grey sweater as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

_Just like May,_ he thought.

\---

Later, when Pepper sat him down and told him that May Parker was among the many who had disappeared, she ran her fingers through his hair again.

_Just like May,_ he thought, and together they stained a few more sweaters.

\---

Peter was in his room when Harley arrived.

“Peter, Ms. Potts has asked that you meet her in the living room.”

He put down his book ( _Nanotechnology and Its Possible Applications in the Modern Day by Shin Ha Ki_ ) and stood. It had been a month since Thanos had destroyed half of all life in the universe, and Peter had dedicated as much time as he could towards reversing what had come to be known as The Snap. It was all he could think about. Every night, he went to bed with ideas swirling around in his mind of _maybe this_ or _maybe that,_ and by the next morning new ones had appeared to replace the old. He’d asked Pepper for access to Mr. Stark’s personal library of resources, and spent hours scouring his files for anything that could help. Nothing stood out, not yet, but he wasn’t done looking. He wouldn’t be done looking for a very long while. 

He walked to the living room on autopilot, ideas churning around in his head. Pepper was standing by the sofa, facing two kids that Peter’d never met before. A boy around his age, tall and lanky, with messy blond hair and blue eyes stood at the elevator with a young girl at his side. He stood slouched over with his hands in his pockets, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up to the elbow, as he scuffed the hardwood floor with beat up black converse.

By comparison, the girl seemed more put-together. With black leggings, white converse, and a gray shirt under a jean jacket, she stood straighter than the boy, and watched Pepper with intelligent blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back into a braid that fell over her shoulder, and she batted it away absently as she took in her surroundings. 

“Oh, Peter, there you are.” Pepper beckoned him forward, and he walked next to her warily, meeting the older boy’s gaze briefly before turning back to Pepper. “This is Harley and Ava.”

Harley stuck out his hand, and Peter took it. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He nodded at him, and then gave Ava what he hoped was a comforting smile. She returned it.

“Hi. Sorry for barging in on you, but… well, we didn’t know where else to go. Our mom… she got Snapped.”

Harley put a hand on his sister’s shoulder, looking at Pepper. “Mr. Stark- Tony- well, he said that if I ever needed help, I could always come to him. I know he’s… not here, but if the offer’s still open…” He shrugged, looking sheepish. 

Pepper sighed. “Of course the offer’s open. Any friend of Tony’s is a friend of ours.” She looked at them fondly, a hint of wistfulness in her eye. “How Tony managed to collect so many kids is beyond me.”

“To be fair, I never met him,” Ava interjected, “that was all Harley.”

The boy shrugged. “You wanted to ditch me to sleep over Ellie’s house. You ditch, you miss.”

“Shut up.”

“Uh-huh.” Harley pulled on her braid, and she swatted at his arm, smiling. Watching them made Peter ache for May, but he shoved down the pain. It wouldn’t help him get them back anyway.

Pepper grinned at them, open and honest. “Okay, well I was just about to start on dinner. Peter, can you show them the guest bedrooms, the two right across from yours, next to mine.” She turned back to them. “They’re not very exciting, but you can fix them up however you want.”

“Thanks, Ms. Potts-”

“Pepper.”

Harley smiled at her. “Pepper. Thanks for doing this. We really owe you.”

She snorted as she spun on her heel and headed towards the kitchen. “From what I hear, I owe you. Tony said you saved his life in Tennessee a few years ago. The least I can do is give you a place to stay.”

Ava laughed. “They saved each other, actually. Harley got caught by one of the bad guys and needed Tony to save him, like an idiot.”

“Shut up Ava, he had super strength and glowed orange, what was I supposed to do?”

She shrugged. “Not get caught?”

“I’m sure you would’ve done a much better job at that than me, considering you finish last in track every year.”

“I wouldn’t have run, I would’ve hid. Brains beats brawn every time. You should know, Mr. Junior Mechanic.”

“You’re a mechanic?” Peter asked. He had begun leading the pair down the residential wing, and had been watching their conversation with amusement, but finding out that Harley was a mechanic gave him the courage he needed to butt in.

Harley lifted a shoulder in half-hearted agreement. “I dabble. I think it’s why Tony took a shine to me in the first place. That, and he had nowhere else to go.” He turned an inquisitive eye on Peter. “Where’d he pick you up? Or are you some secret child he hid from the media?”

Peter gave a small laugh. “No, I wish. He saw some of my projects I was working on, thought I was good enough to take on as an intern, y’know? I just walked into my apartment and there he was, Tony Stark, Iron-Man, sitting on my sofa, trying to charm my Aunt into pawning me off to Stark Industries.” He laughed again, remembering how star- struck he’d been at seeing _Tony friggin’ Stark_ in his apartment. God, it felt like decades ago now.

“Must’ve been some damn impressive projects, yeah?” Harley asked.

He stiffened, tension creeping into his shoulders. “W-well, y’know, just like, a-a-a bunch of stuff on, um, thermonuclear fusion and how the, uh, the energy it releases could, could, um, b-be harnessed to help power uh… like, y’know, different technology and stuff.” Peter bit his cheek. _Why am I incapable of lying?!_

“Oh! Like how when the atom separates into two smaller atoms, you could use the energy from that to help power generators instead of using non-renewable gas, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah, exactly like that!” _Thank God._

“Mmm.” Peter turned to see Harley staring down the hallway. They were close to the bedrooms now. “Except in thermonuclear fusion, atoms combine to make one larger atom, they don’t separate, and the energy released by fusion is seen as non-renewable energy. Plus, it’s high cost makes it inconvenient to use as an energy source for everyday household use.” He looked at Peter. “Next time you lie about physics, make sure it’s to someone who doesn’t understand what you’re talking about, man. I did just tell you that _Tony Stark_ took a shine to me because of my mechanic skills.”

“Busted.” Ava muttered under her breath. Peter felt his cheeks warm.

“Uh… look, I’m sorry, it’s just kind of top secret? And I didn’t want anybody to know, but then Mr. Stark found out and like, he gave me all this cool stuff to work with and he sorta really helped me out and I’m just used to not telling anyone so-”

Harley held up his hands to stop his rambling, which Peter was utterly grateful for. “Whoa man, calm down. I’m not here to interrogate you. If you don’t want me to know, that’s cool. No need to explain. Just… say it’s complicated next time?”

Peter blushed a deeper red as they came to a stop beside a pair of doors. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“No problem man,” he said, pushing open the door across from Peter’s room, navy blue duffel bag in hand, “see you at dinner.”

“Yeah, totally! Sorry again!”

Harley looked over his shoulder and nodded, a small smirk spreading across his face, before shutting the door. Peter stood there for a second, wondering if he could come back from such an abysmal showing, while Ava opened the door next to Harley’s.

“You guys are going to get on like a house on fire,” she said simply, and closed the door on whatever Peter would’ve said to that. 

He stood in the hallway for another moment, blinking dumbly at the door, before turning and heading back out to the kitchen. Pepper was setting the table, and looked up at him when he plopped down in a chair across from her, putting his face in his hands and groaning. She laughed and ruffled his hair. 

“What’d you do?”

“Tried to lie about physics to a guy who’s apparently a genius at physics.” He grumbled. Pepper snorted from where she was working at the stove. He looked up at her imploringly. “I can never come back from this, Pepper! He’s going to think I’m an idiot for the rest of our lives!”

She set a plate down in front of him and patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sure you’ll be fine Peter. Actually, if what Tony said is true, I’m pretty sure you’ll get along like a house on fire.”

Peter looked down at his plate, pretending he couldn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen.

_Like a house on fire,_ he thought, and cringed as the image of Harley scoffing at him filled his mind.

_Oh man, I’m_ so _gonna screw this up._

\---

And he does screw up, though not as badly as he thought he would.

It was his first night back as Spider-Man, about a week after Harley and Ava had shown up at the Compound. Pepper had reminded him that all the same rules that May and Tony had set up still applied: curfew at midnight, call for backup when needed, and come straight back if injured. And, to be fair, Peter _was_ back at the Compound at 11:32pm, right after he had taken care of the twenty some odd gang members who had been about to start a brawl in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Plus, he’d come straight back after he realized that he was bleeding out from a knife wound in his abdomen.

He’d managed to swing back to the Compound, but had had to stop when the dizziness got to be too much. Collapsing on a bench outside the Compound’s doors, he focused on steadying his breathing and putting as much pressure as he could on the wound.

Which, of course, was where Harley found him.

“Holy crap, _Peter?!”_

Harley crouched over him, hissing when he saw the blood on the suit. Peter had taken off his mask so he could breathe easier, and it had fallen onto the bench beside him, a bloody hand print marring one of its white eyes. 

“Hey Harley. Don’t tell Pepper, she’ll freak, and I don’t wanna bother her…”

“Peter, you’re _bleeding out-”_

“It’ll heal, it always does, can you just, like, help me inside? I’m kinda dizzy…”

“Peter, dude, you sure-”

_“Yes,_ Harley, I’m sure, please, just-just help me get up…”

Harley grimaced, clearly dissatisfied with the situation, but helped Peter stand, slinging Peter’s arm over his shoulder as they hobbled toward the entrance. 

They made it to the elevator without arousing too much suspicion, besides the receptionist at the front desk, who’d watched them with a mix of disapproval and alarm as they’d stumbled by.

Peter leaned up against the side of the elevator, closing his eyes. “FRI, take us up to Mr. Stark’s personal lab, please. And- don’t tell Pepper?”

“Sure, Peter, but Ms. Potts has asked me to inform her whenever you’re injured on patrol.”

He groaned, and Harley sent him a pitying smile before turning his eyes toward the ceiling. “Tell her I’ve got him, FRIDAY, and I’ll call her if we need her.”

“Got it.” A moment of silence passed, and then FRIDAY’S voice filled the elevator again. “Ms. Potts says she’ll be down in an hour, as soon as she’s done with her meeting, and asks that you two try not to blow each other up while she’s gone.”

Harley huffed a laugh. “We can manage, thanks though.”

The elevator dinged, and they were let out into Mr. Stark’s personal lab. Memories that Peter had fought hard to repress came bubbling to the surface, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat as they crashed over him.

_“-and it’s just like, I_ know _I’m in the minority here, but I think the animated show is just like, the_ best _part of the Star Wars saga, ‘cause it’s interesting without watching the films- I mean, I watched it before I even knew what Star Wars was- and it tells this, like, really complex story arc with Anakin that fills in the gaps that the prequels left,_ and _it introduces you to Ahsoka, who’s like, the_ best-”

_“Kid, you’re making me regret watching the first season with you.”_

_“...Sorry, Mr. Stark, I just really like the show…”_

_“It’s fine Pete. Just remember to breathe when you talk. And get over here, Rhodey needs these braces done in an hour, and I’m the only one doing any of the work.”_

_“Did he really like the extra padding I put in the soles last time? I know he said he did, but he might’ve just been trying to be nice, and-”_

_“Kid, I’m pretty sure he’s going to start asking_ you _to do the repairs after that stunt. You turned my own best friend against me.”_

_“I don’t know about that, Mr. Stark. Colonel Rhodes seems pretty attached to you.”_

_“No, Pete, he_ tolerates _me, but he_ adores _you. Now get off my desk and come help me, I could use an extra hand working on the hydraulics.”_

_“I’m coming, I’m coming…”_

He started when Harley set him down on a workbench and winced as the pain in his side flared. “Where’s Tony keep the first aid kit? With how much shit he blows up, I know there’s one in here.” Harley muttered, already searching the cabinets under the lab tables.

“To your right, third cabinet. Grab the one that has my name on it.”

Harley opened the cabinet, and gave a startled laugh as he pulled out a first aid kit. “‘Peter’s Emergency Idiot Box,’” he read, “‘use only when Peter acts like a suicidal idiot.’” Harley looked over at him, evil mirth in his eyes. “Does this count as one of those times?”

“God, I hate him.” Peter reached for the first aid kit when Harley drew nearer, but his hands were batted away.

“I got it, just get out of the suit.” Peter grumbled half-hearted complaints, but did as he was told, decompressing the suit and letting it slide from his shoulders, revealing a dark red slash across his abdomen. “Ouch, that looks like it hurts.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s already healing. At this point, it shouldn’t need stitches. Can you put a bandage on it?”

“Yeah, let me just clean it first.”

They sat in silence, broken only by the occasional hiss of pain from Peter as Harley cleaned the wound. It took five minutes for Harley to speak again.

“So, you’re Spider-Man huh?”

Peter tensed, and this time it wasn’t from the pain. Deciding casual was the way to go, he said “Yeah,” in as nonchalant a tone as he could muster.

“That why it’s ‘complicated’ between you and Tony?”

“Uh, yeah. He, uh, he saw videos of Spider-Man online, figured out who I was, and then he just… showed up at my apartment and kinda recruited me, I guess.”

“Mmm.” He risked a glance at Harley, only to find the boy diligently applying a bandage to his side. “Must’ve been a shock. It was for me. I almost shot him with a potato gun.”

“You _what?!”_

Harley shrugged. “He broke into my house, what else was I gonna do?”

Peter stared at him in shock. “I can’t believe you almost shot _Iron-Man_ with a potato gun.”

“Yeah, definitely one of my finer moments. To be fair though, he did force me to make him a sandwich after that. And I helped him rebuild his suit. Basically, I was his slave for a few days.”

“You helped him rebuild his suit when you were _ten?”_

Harley gave him a smirk. “I told you, I dabble.” He smoothed down the bandage, and sat back. “You’re good.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Try not to get stabbed next time.”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair as he got up and made his way to the lab’s closet, grabbing the spare set of clothes he kept there. “I kind of just… walked into it. Normally my friend would warn me, he’s my Guy-in-the-Chair, but he um, he got Snapped.”

Harley was silent behind him. Peter was pulling on a spare set of jeans when Harley finally spoke..

“I’ll be your Guy-in-the-Chair, then.”

He whipped around. Harley had stood, and stuck his chin out when he saw Peter watching him. “You need someone watching your back, and since your friend isn’t here to do it, I will. I’ll be your Guy-in-the-Chair _pro tempore.”_ His mouth quirked up in a sure smile, and he stood that much taller, though his hands stayed shoved in his pockets.

Peter watched him, and felt a smile creep over his face. "You know what Harley, I might just take you up on that."

\---

Turns out, Harley and Peter _didn’t_ get along like a house on fire.

They got along like a _lab_ on fire. 

And after ten minutes of Pepper and Happy panicking, Ava cackling, Peter apologizing, and Harley grinning, they had both discovered that it was far more fun to blow up Tony’s lab _with_ someone than without.

Plus, DUM-E got to use the fire extinguisher, and that’s really all that mattered, in the end.

\---

Peter had only seen Captain America a few times: the first time, when he stole his shield in Germany (a personal point of pride for him), and the second time, when Nebula had carried him out of the ship. Both times, he had been a little preoccupied to completely fanboy over one of his childhood heroes.

Now though… well, what better opportunity was he going to get than Steve Rogers standing awkwardly in the living room, looking for all the world like a puppy lost in the New York City streets.

“Uhm, uh, h-hey Cap...tain, Captain America sir.” If Peter hadn’t been so star-struck, he might’ve cringed at his words, but considering _Captain America_ was standing _right in front of him_ he was willing to let it slide.

“Hey kid,” the Captain said, and ooh didn’t that name still sting a little, but Peter waved away the lump in his throat in favor of listening to Cap’s next words. “Sorry for barging in like this, I just needed to talk to Pepper, and FRIDAY said I could find her up here.”

“Right, yeah, of course, FRIDAY probably already told her, she should be here soon, sorry to keep you waiting, Captain America sir. D-do you, um… do you want a drink or something? ‘Cause we’ve got a lot of drinks, so many drinks, like at least thirty, Pepper keeps the fridge stocked with everything ‘cause she said she’s taking care of three kids going through puberty and y’know, changing and growing bodies and stuff- but you know about that, you did that movie they showed in my sophomore health class-”

“Kid! Kid, I get it, I get it, it’s fine,” Captain Rogers huffed out a laugh, his soft smile threatening to break into a grin, “and I’ll just have some water, if you don’t mind.”

Peter scrambled into action, racing for the cupboard above the sink, “Right away, Captain! I’m a huge fan, by the way.”

“So you said. In Germany.”

Peter’s fumbling hands slowed, and he paused for a moment before reaching for a glass. “Right, yeah, Germany…”

It shouldn’t surprise him, that Captain America knew he was Spider-Man. After all, only Spider-Man, Iron-Man and Dr. Strange had entered the spaceship in New York, and only Peter had come back. Not to mention that he was still in his Iron Spider suit when he’d arrived. It wasn’t a hard leap in logic. Still, it unsettled him. He wanted it to be his decision who knew his identity and who didn’t. Apparently, that had been taken away from him too.

Deciding it was best to switch topics, Peter asked, “So, what have you and the other Avengers been up to?”

Captain Rogers sighed a world weary sigh, and man, could Peter relate to that. “Well, it’s all been chaos, really. Nat- Black Widow, I mean- has become our sort of de-facto missions manager. We’ve been trying to keep the peace in as many places for as long as we can until the government can properly reform and restore order. It’s not easy, with half of the population just… gone.”

Peter nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when we do get them back, y’know?” He turned off the sink, glass full, to see Captain Rogers staring at him sadly.

“You’ve got a lot of optimism, huh?”

“Well yeah, I’ve got to. But I mean, you’re Captain America. You know as well as I do that we’re going to bring them back.”

There was a long pause as Peter filled the cup with some ice. If he didn’t have super hearing, he might not have caught the man’s response. He froze mid-action, water sloshing over the rim of the cup as he stumbled to a halt.

“What?”

The Captain’s eyes shot up to meet his. “What?”

“What did you just say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. You said you didn’t think we could get them back. What do you mean?”

The man sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kid, Thanos… we found him. Tracked back the stones to their last energy reading, but when we got there… he’d destroyed them. All of them. And without the stones… I don’t know how we can get them back.”

He stared, speechless, at the defeated figure of Captain America before him. One of his heroes. A man who would always find a way, no matter how the odds were stacked. A super soldier, born to complete the mission, whatever the cost.

Captain America had given up.

“Bullshit.”

Rogers looked up at him from where he’d cast his eyes to the floor. “What?”

“I said that’s bullshit. You don’t get to give up. You’re Captain America. We need you.”

“There’s nothing left that we can do, kid-”

“Have you even _tried?”_

“Peter-”

“What about your friend, the Winter Soldier? What about Falcon? What about the Scarlet Witch, or Vision, or Black Panther? Are you just going to give up on them?”

Rogers ran a hand down his face, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry kid, I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know what else to do-”

“Think of something! Anything! You can’t just _stop trying!_ ”

Peter’s breaths came in harsh pants, and his hand shook, water spilling over the floor. He waited for Rogers to say something, anything, to tell him he was right, and that he’ll try again, he’ll find a way to bring everyone home, to bring his Aunt back, his friends back, Mr. Stark back, _everyone back._

Captain America watched him from his spot on the living room floor, and said, “I’m sorry, kid.”

He sucked in a breath, and another, and turned away from Rogers, his free hand clenched tightly in a fist. It was a fight to get his breathing under control.

Rogers waited patiently behind him, and Peter felt the burn of his gaze. Only seconds passed, but it felt like hours when he finally spoke again.

“I could never really believe him, you know.” He was quiet. It felt like the calm before the storm.

“Believe who,” asked Rogers.

“Mr. Stark. When he came back from Siberia, I went to see him, to do some repairs on my suit. But when I got there… he said it was just a fight, that it wasn’t so bad, but he was laid up in the MedBay for three weeks after with two broken ribs, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, a bruised sternum, and three broken fingers, with cuts all over his body. He said you guys had fought in Siberia, and that he had lost.”

When Peter turned around, Rogers had a horrified expression on his face, and some darker part of Peter thought _good_ with a grim sort of satisfaction. _Feel what I felt when I saw him on that hospital bed. Feel what I felt when he flinched at my hand, or when he woke up screaming, or when he had a panic attack when something came a little too close to his chest._

“And I didn’t want to believe him, because you’re _good_ and _honest_ and _right,_ but now? Now I get it. You were never this symbol that everyone made you out to be. You’re just a man, and you’ve finally fallen from your pedestal.”

Peter stared at the glass in his hand; half of the water had spilled onto the hardwood, soaking into the floor. He’d have to apologize to Pepper later. 

Rogers took another audible breath, evidently trying to build back up the walls that Peter had torn down. He wouldn’t meet Peter’s eyes. “Kid, I-”

_“DON’T CALL ME KID!”_

The glass shattered against the wall, missing Rogers’ head by a foot but still managing to startle him nonetheless. He whipped his head around to stare at Peter, stunned. The storm had arrived.

Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, and he didn’t bother wiping them away. He’d just thrown a glass at Steve Rogers; he had bigger things to worry about. Namely, getting the shit kicked out of him by Captain America. He readied himself for the first hit, watching Rogers shift, waiting for the first blow to strike-

“ _Peter!”_

Pepper Potts raced into the living room, stepping in between Peter and Rogers and checking him over, noting the tear tracks down his cheeks. Apparently satisfied that he was physically unharmed, she turned him towards the residential wing and started pushing him in the direction of his room. “Come on, let’s get to your room, okay? We can talk in there. Steve,” she added, glancing back behind her, “I think you should go. We can talk later.”

“Pepper I-”

“Go, Steve. Now.”

As Pepper led him towards his room, Peter chanced a glance over his shoulder. The last he saw of Captain Steve Rogers was his face as the elevator doors, pain etched into every line.

\---

Nebula stormed into his room later that same night. “Where is he?”

Peter kept his arm over his eyes, trying to stem the pounding headache pulsing in his frontal lobe. “Not here.”

“I will kill him for this.”

Peter stayed on the bed, but lifted his arm high enough to glance at her. “I don’t think killing him will solve any of our problems, Nebula.”

“He hurt you.”

“I know. I don’t think he meant to. I think he was trying to let me down easy,” he sighed, long and weary, “I just lost my temper, that’s all.”

Nebula was pacing, her hands bunched into fists at her sides. He could see the angry twist to her mouth from across the room. “It does not matter. They said you would be safe here, and then he hurt you. That is unacceptable.”

“Nebula-”

“If he comes near you again, I will kill him.”

“No, you won’t. They’re already wary of you, Nebula. Making an enemy of Steve Rogers will _not_ help you earn their trust.”

“It does not matter. I do not need their trust.”

His headache drummed an aching beat into his skull. “Nebula, please-”

“You were doing better, Peter, and he made you cry-”

“ _Nebula.”_

His voice cracked on the last syllable. Nebula stopped pacing, spinning around to look at him. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling numb. “Do you… do you really think we can get them back?”

There was no answer. He shut his eyes, guilt at his confession churning in his stomach. But if even Captain America had lost hope, what else was there, really, to be done? He was seventeen years old. He couldn’t hold the world on his shoulders, no matter how hard he tried. It was just too heavy.

His bed dipped, and cool metal slid between his fingers.. “Peter. Look at me.”

He opened his eyes. Nebula stared down at him, eyes hard. Her gaze never left his as she took his hand and clutched it between warm and cold hands.

“I do not believe in luck, or optimism, or hope,” she started, slowly, unsure of her words, “but, I have seen your intellect with my own eyes, and I do believe in facts.” She lifted his hand and squeezed it tightly, grounding him. “If there is anyone who is able to reverse what my father has done, it is you. Do not let this man take the hope from you as my father did to me.”

The tears weren’t a surprise necessarily, but the intensity in Nebula’s voice was. It was a lot, especially for her. It had always been hard for her to talk about her dad, and he couldn blame her, not after everything he’d done and everything she told him, but he had worried for her, in those rare moments of honesty back on the _Benatar,_ he had been able to see the pain breaking through the film of carefully crafted composure in her eyes. It was a huge step for her to even say this much. And for Peter to be the one to hear it? To see this side of her, one she kept locked under lock and key? It meant more to him than he could possibly say.

His loss for words apparently didn’t translate to Nebula, because she began to rise from the bed. “I am sorry. I will leave you to rest.”

_Oh, shit, not what I meant._ “Wait!”

She turned back, and Peter launched himself at her, wrapping his arms around her torso. Nebula tensed, but cautiously brought her hands up to rest on his back, probably the closest thing to a hug she knew how to give. It didn’t matter; he could make up for what she couldn’t give.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “I know that was hard for you, and it meant a lot to me.”

Some of the tension in her frame subsided. “You are welcome,” she said, and tightened her hold on him a fraction. “I do not like seeing you hurt.”

“I know. I don’t like seeing you hurt either,” he said, “but at least we’ve got each other’s backs, you know?”

There was a pause where Peter thought she might not respond and that he had overstepped, but then she pulled him closer and rested her cheek on his temple. She smelled like rusty metal and leather. “Yes, we do.”

Peter smiled, and at least for a moment, everything was alright.

\---

“Got the goods.”

Peter looked up from his laptop to see Harley walk into the lab, bags of takeout in hand. He sighed, shutting his laptop and rubbing his eyes. Harley frowned.

“Still no ideas?”

“No,” Peter reached for a container of chicken lo mein, popping off the lid and grabbing a fork, “nothing I can find has the same kind of energy readings that the stones do. Even with all the info Nebula and Rocket gave us, I can’t find anything.”

Harley took a bite of his sweet and sour chicken before turning back to the suit in front of him. For the past two months, he’d been working on a model of the Iron-Man suit for himself, even hooking up FRIDAY to the internal mainframe. He’d hit a few speed bumps, but from what Peter could tell, it was pretty solid. “So maybe we stop focusing on the stones themselves and move in a different direction.”

“Like what?”

“FRI, can you run a simulation with, uh… 30 percent power in the heat shields against 200 degrees Fahrenheit? Thanks.” Harley said, before turning back to Peter. “I don’t know man, but we’ve been focusing on the stones and their energy and composition for months, and its gotten us nowhere. There’s gotta be another way we’re not thinking of. The stones aren’t the end all, be all. There’s always a catch. So let’s go back to square one. Start with what we know and we’ll go from there.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve been at square one this entire time, Harley.”

“Then go back to square zero. Just- humor me, will you?”

Peter glared at him, but Harley wasn’t budging on this, so he sighed and leaned back in his chair, spinning lazily. “Fine. When I saw Thanos, he already had four of the stones, and Dr. Strange had the fifth. We fought, we lost, and Thanos was about to kill Mr. Stark when Dr. Strange gave him the stone to save Mr. Stark’s life. Then he poofed, came to earth, rewound time to get the last stone from Vision, snapped his fingers, and half of all life in the universe disappeared. We also know that the stones were destroyed by Thanos just before Rogers and the others killed him, and there’s no other source of energy like them in the universe.” Peter sighed again, bitter. “And we know that out of fourteen million, six hundred and five realities, we only win in one.”

“Wait,” Harley put down his chicken, “what do you mean, fourteen million realities?”

“Something Dr. Strange said, before the fight with Thanos. He said he looked through fourteen million realities to see all the possible futures. We only win in one.”

Harley stared at him, gobsmacked. “He _time traveled?!”_

“Uh… I don’t know if I would call it that. He said different realities-”

“But like, one of those realities had to be ours, even if it’s the one where we lose. _Our reality’s future._ ”

Peter blinked. “I… I guess so, yeah.”

“Peter, he must have seen what happened in the reality where we win. He must _know_ how we win, right?!”

_There was no other way._

His jaw dropped. He looked at Harley. “Oh my God.”

Harley nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God!”

“I know!”

“So there must be an answer out there!” Peter jumped up from his chair and started pacing. It always helped him think. “But how does this help us? I mean, Dr. Strange could time travel, right? So he knew giving up the time stone was part of how we win this. He gave it up for Mr. Stark… but Mr. Stark got Snapped, so if he was going to get Snapped why would it matter if he gave up the stone? And he looked at _me_ when he said that, so what did he want me to know? Something about the time stone? But he knew it would get destroyed, so what good would it do us now? We can’t use it any-”

“Peter.”

He stopped pacing, glancing over at Harley, who had also stood and was doing some pacing of his own. “What if it wasn’t the time stone itself, but what it could do? Like, time travel works both ways: Dr. Strange used the time stone to look into the future, but didn’t you say that Thanos also used it to reverse time to get the mind stone?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter if we don’t have the time stone with us-”

“What if we don’t need it.”

Peter stared at him. “What?”

Harley stopped his pacing and spun around to face Peter. “Time is relative, right? Everyone experiences it differently. Like, if you’re standing in a train and you’re staring at a person in the distance, you might see them for ten seconds, but the person in the distance will only see you for five. Or If you’re really big, time goes slower for you than it does if you’re really small. So maybe if we figure out how to manipulate that…”

The light bulb went off. “Oh my God, _Ant-Man!”_

“What?”

_“Ant-Man!_ He shrinks and grows, can control it somehow. And if you get small enough-

“-you enter the quantum realm, holy shit Peter that’s it!”

Peter raced over to his laptop and flung it open, his fingers flying across the screen. _Come on, come on, this has to be it, please, this has to be it, come on come on COME ON!_

“Here! Hank Pym, creator of the Ant-Man suit, plus the ones he and his wife used in the field as SHIELD agents- dammit!” He banged his fist on the table and looked at Harley. “He got Snapped.”

“Shit… we can still look through his stuff though-”

“No, no, he went off grid after the Civil War, apparently he’s on the FBI’s most wanted list. But,” Peter added, typing furiously, “we _can_ find Ant-Man’s stuff right… here! Scott Lang’s belongings are in a storage center in downtown San Francisco.” Peter spun around and shoved his laptop into Harley’s hands. “If there’s anything to this, this is our best shot.”

Harley smiled. “When do we leave.”

\---

“Kid.”

Peter glanced over from where he was packing his suitcase. “Yeah, Happy?”

The man stayed in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him pack a backpack. “Are you sure about this?”

His hands stalled in their movements. He could feel Happy’s eyes on him, like lasers burning holes in the side of his head, and he couldn’t meet his gaze. “Not really, no.”

Happy hummed. “So how likely is this to pan out the way you want it to?”

The sweatshirt in his hand wrinkled in his gasp. “I figure we’ve got a fifty-fifty shot at finding something useful.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Happy nod. “Yeah. I just don’t want you getting your hopes up.”

He couldn’t help the caustic laugh from escaping his lips. “Trust me. I’m not.” Tearing his eyes away from the bag, he met Happy’s gaze. “I’m aware of just how desperate this is. But it’s the only lead we’ve got right now, and I’ve got to follow it through.”

Happy leaned against the doorframe, his jaw clenched. “And what if there’s nothing to follow through?”

“Dammit, Happy, I don’t know!”

Peter whirled around, chucking his hoodie across the room. It bounced off the wall and fell to the floor harmlessly. Happy didn’t even flinch.

“All I _do_ know is that my family is dead, and I’m running out of ideas to bring them back, and this is the best idea we’ve had, so I’m going to follow it until it runs dry. Okay?” 

The reaction he was waiting for didn’t come. Instead of matching his anger, Happy stayed quiet, watching him. Peter balled his hands into fists until his nails cut red crescents into his palm. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“What do you want me to say? You’re right, this is all we’ve got.” Happy’s mask cracked at the edges, and his eyes softened. “I’m just worried about what will happen to you if this doesn’t work.”

Peter’s anger dissipated. The strength left his bones, and he collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion taking its hold over him. He put his head in his hands. “Me too.”

He heard Happy shift, and his footsteps traveled closer until a warm weight sat down beside him. “I’ve seen you and Harley working. Hell, even before Harley got here you were working on something to fix this,” Happy rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder awkwardly, as if unsure how the gesture would be taken, “and it’s killing you. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, you only leave the Compound when you’re patrolling… that’s no way to live, Peter. I understand having hope, and it’s good to work towards that, but not at the cost of your sanity. So,” he squeezed Peter’s shoulder a little, “if this doesn’t work, you have to promise me to take a break, just for a week or two. Your Aunt and Tony will understand. They care about you, and they don’t want to see a ghost when they come back.”

He took a moment to digest that. Happy was right, but it wouldn’t stop the pit in his stomach from growing every second he spent not working on a solution to the problem. It didn’t feel fair that he could enjoy a movie on the couch or go out to dinner with Pepper when May and Mr. Stark weren’t there to enjoy it with him.

“I’m just trying my best, Happy.”

“I know kid. But you’ve got people around you that care about you, and you’re scaring them. Pepper’s doing what she can, but you’ve gotta give her something to work with.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll try.”

“I know.” Happy patted his shoulder a bit, and this time it was more comforting than awkward. “That’s all we’re asking for.”

Peter finally looked at him. Happy had a tight smile on his face and worry in his brow, but at least he was trying. He’d never been the sentimental type, which was probably why him and Tony got on so well. “Thanks, Happy. For looking out for me.”

The man drew back and straightened his jacket, the mask coming back on, but it was damaged enough that Peter could see the face underneath, even as he said, “It’s what Tony pays me for.”

“I’m sure babysitting me pays the big bucks, right?”

Happy chuckled as he stood. “If big bucks are gray hairs.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad!”

He gave him a look. “You jumped on an airplane without a parachute, wearing a sweatshirt and goggles, and crashed it onto a beach, where you then decided it was a good idea to attack a man with alien powered mechanical wings,” he said, “yeah, you’re that bad.”

“I’m not as bad as Mr. Stark.”

“You’re exactly as bad as Tony, only if you get hurt I get yelled at by two people instead of one.”

Peter winced at that. “Sorry.”

Happy adjusted his tie and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be. I know you can’t help it, and your Aunt and Tony are just worried about you.” He made for the door, looking over his shoulder when he grabbed the doorknob. “Wheels up in thirty, don’t be late.”

“I won’t. Happy?”

He paused as Happy glanced back at him. “I mean it. Thank you, for everything.”

The man’s eyes softened again. Another crack in the mask. “Anytime, kid.”

The door closed, and then he was gone.

\---

The car pulled up to the storage center in downtown San Francisco at 3:16pm Pacific Standard Time, only an hour after landing at San Francisco International Airport. The flight had only been six and a half hours, but it felt like ten years. Happy had to lock down the snack bar after the fifth soda sent Peter bounding up and down the aisle like a baby golden retriever. He knew he was testing the man’s patience, but his adrenaline was through the roof. This was it. Whatever was in that storage center could either make or break their research.

Happy never got the chance to park the car. As soon as they passed within twenty feet of the entrance, Peter and Harley flung open the doors to the black Audi and raced for the entrance, Happy calling after them from the drivers’ seat. It was a big building; long and white, it stretched down the street, blocking the skyline from view. There were barely any cars parked along its side, and it was obvious that it wasn’t a frequent destination for many residents of the nearby area. Trash was scattered across the pavement, and the exterior was faded and yellowed, with wires hanging from the roof in clumps. The small, metal door set into the wall was the only entrance. A sign reading “U-STORE-IT: SELF STORAGE” creaked as it swung in the wind. 

Harley yanked open the door and they raced inside. There wasn’t much; a few papers tacked to the wall here and there advertising storage deals, and a small window leading to a reception desk. Peter walked over, Harley at his side. The security guard kept his eyes trained on a magazine, ignoring them. Harley put his hands on the counter and cleared his throat. The man behind the desk glanced up.

“Yeah?”

“We need to see Scott Lang’s belongings.”

The security guard looked them over. “You kids relatives?”

“We’re his nephews.” Harley explained. Peter nodded earnestly next to him. The guard arched an eyebrow, flicked his eyes to his magazine, shrugged, and pushed a clipboard towards them.

“Sign in, then you can go.” He kicked up his feet and went back to his magazine.

“Thank you.” Peter scribbled his name down hurriedly, and Harley tugged him towards the door. It opened without any resistance, and they were inside. They dashed through the building, scanning each sign for the word ‘Lang.’

Two minutes in, Peter saw a familiar name to his right. “Harley! I got it!”

Harley tripped over his own feet on his way to Peter. He grabbed at the padlock. “Damn, lock- or that, Jesus, Peter, that wasn’t loud at all.”

Peter let the now broken padlock fall to the ground. “I’ll replace it later, come on.”

They waded through bags of junk, picking at different items that seemed noteworthy. 

“Dude had a Guitar Hero drum set? Man, he must’ve had too much free time.” Harley dropped the drumstick he held and moved toward the van.

“I mean, he _was_ on house arrest for two years. It must’ve gotten boring.”

Harley hummed noncommittally, sliding into the front seat of the van. “What is all this stuff? He basically remodeled his van to look like the DeLorean.”

“Oh man, I love that movie!”

“Yeah, but the sequel was- shit!”

Harley leapt out of the driver’s seat as a whirring noise started up from the back of the van. Sparks flew from the console and under the hood. Peter grabbed Harley and shoved him behind his back, tapping his wrist and letting his Iron Spider suit form over his body. The whirring grew in volume, until a _bang_ resonated from inside the van. The doors burst open, and Ant-Man was flung out, smacking into the chain link fence.

Peter stared in shock as the man tumbled onto various garbage bags, wincing from the impact. Finally, he spotted Peter and Harley in the corner, watching him with wide eyes. They all spoke at once.

“Spider-Man?” Said Ant-Man.

“Ant-Man?” Said Spider-Man.

“What the _hell?”_ Said Harley.

They stared at each other until a sound at the gate broke the silence. Happy stood before them, face red from running.

“What’d I miss?”

\---

Peter only half-listened as Scott Lang gave his time-travel spiel to the Avengers. He, Harley, and Scott (the first time he’d called him ‘Mr. Lang,’ Scott had practically begged on his hands and knees for Peter to just call him Scott) had already talked through the logistics of it on the plane ride home. Harley interjected from time to time, but it was Scott doing the bulk of the talking.

For his part, Peter kept his eyes on the various reactions their idea was getting. Most people were skeptical. Colonel Rhodes kept flicking his eyes between Scott and Peter, as if trying to draw a connection between the two. Black Widow was probably the least receptive of the idea, watching Scott gesticulate from her spot behind the table with vague trepidation, and Rogers… he looked wary, sure, but there was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. At least, not when Peter had talked to him.

“...the only problem is how we control it. We can go into the quantum realm and travel in time, sure, but we have no way to navigate it.”

“Then what good is all this speculation, Scott? If we have no way to reliably travel through the quantum realm, then none of this matters.”

“So we figure it out! I mean, come on guys, this could be our only shot at bringing everyone back!”

“ _Can_ we figure it out though? Because I’m lost over here, this is all going over my head.”

“Well we’ll find someone who can.”

“Who?”

“Us.”

Everybody turned to Peter. He stood straighter, eyes darting between the different people in the room, and took a deep breath.

“We’ll figure it out. Me, Harley, Scott- we can even call in Dr. Banner. We’re smart enough. If we put our heads together, we can work something out.”

From the corner of the room, Harley grinned at him. Peter wished everyone else had the same enthusiasm as him.

“Peter, this is a long shot-”

“What makes you so sure-”

“I don’t know if _I_ could help-”

“This could be dangerous-”

_“Look.”_

The conversation in the room halted. Peter continued.

“Short of locking me up, you can’t stop me from trying, so you can either help me, or stay out of my way”

Three months ago, Peter would never have dreamed of talking to the Avengers like that. But he had run out of patience, and their arguing was giving him a headache. Actually… he kind of sounded like Mr. Stark. _So this is what he felt like…_

“Pete… are you sure about this? ‘Cause this sounds like it could end up being dangerous, and Tony wouldn’t want you to risk your life for him, you know that.” 

Peter looked at Rhodey. “Mr. Stark isn’t here right now. He’s not here, and we have a chance to bring him back. I’m not going to pass it up.”

“Me neither.”

Harley stepped forward, and Peter felt the tension in his shoulders ease as the eyes in the room moved off of him. “My mom got Snapped. I’ll do anything to get her back. If this is our chance, then you’re damn right I’m going to take it.”

He looked at Peter, and they shared a nod. At least he would have Harley.

“I’m in too.” 

His eyes shifted over. Scott looked between Peter and Harley, puffing out his chest. “I lost my girlfriend- well hopefully she’s my girlfriend, she only kissed me like once, and that was when she thought I was dying-”

“Scott.”

“Right, yeah, but I want her back, plus Hank and Janet. I don’t know how much use I’ll be, but I’ll help in whatever way I can.” He finished. Peter gave him a grateful smile, which he returned readily.

They turned back to Rogers, who seemed to be contemplating his options. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned back to Peter. “Are you sure you can make it work?” He asked.

Peter shot a glance over at Harley. His eyes sparked with determined fire, and he found himself nodding. “Yeah, I think we can.”

And that was that.

\---

A week later, and they were no closer to solving their time travel dilemma.

“Hey Peter, I’m headed to bed. You should get some sleep too.”

“I will, Dr. Banner, just give me a few more minutes.”

The green goliath sighed and reached over to ruffle his hair. “Sometimes you’re too much like Tony, you know that?”

“I wish.”

“No you don’t. If you were Tony, you’d have a debilitating addiction to coffee and constant bags under your eyes.”

“Yeah, but I’d also have a bajillion dollars and fly around in a metal suit.”

Dr. Banner huffed out a small laugh. “That’s true, I didn’t think of it like that.” He hit the button for the elevator. “Get some sleep, Peter. You won’t have any ideas if you’re too tired to think.”

He waved the man away. “I know, I know, I’ll be up in a minute, just let me finish this.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

The elevator doors closed, and Peter was left alone in Mr. Stark’s lab, staring at math formulas as they sped across the screen. Only the whirring of machines kept him company now. DUM-E was wheeling around with a broom, cleaning up a few experiments left scattered about the floor. Dead end after dead end. There must have been hundreds of them by now. And there may be hundreds more.

The simulation in front of him flashed red. “Simulation failed. Sorry, Peter.”

“Dammit!” He ran his hand through his hair, his fingers catching on knots. “It’s fine FRI, just put it with the others.” The failed simulation moved into a folder in the corner of the screen, where approximately 379 other failed simulations were stored. Another dead end.

Peter leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. He’d been staring at screens for the past seven days; headaches were a constant companion. Other than sleeping for 5 hours a night, showering twice, and grabbing some food from the kitchen when the minifridge wasn’t stocked, Peter hadn’t left the lab. His desk was a mess; papers with random notes were scattered over every surface, including the floor, and there were even some notes written directly onto the table. His computer had over a hundred tabs open, and there were four monitors surrounding him running a steady stream of calculations that nobody but Peter could make sense of. Suddenly, Peter understood how Mr. Stark had felt when he was neck deep in a project and had to be torn from his work station. There were so many ideas bouncing around in his head that he felt the need to get all of them out at once lest he forget one ground-breaking detail.

He had known it wouldn’t be easy, had known that he ran the risk of never figuring it out at all, but he couldn’t help but feel like they were on the right track. They were so close. The answer was there, they just needed to reach out and grab it.

His eyes drifted towards the corner of the ceiling. A few loose webs swayed in air, hanging listlessly from their posts.

_“Hey Mr. Stark!”_

_“Jesus Chri- kid? What the hell are you doing up there?”_

_“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, but I had this idea for some new webs”_

_“Which still doesn’t explain why you’re_ on my ceiling, _Pete.”_

_“I don’t know, I think better when I’m moving, so normally I just… crawl on my ceiling. Or I pace, if I’m not alone.”_

_“Okay, that’s fine, but try not to give me a heart attack next time, yeah? I’ve got a heart condition, I can’t handle Spider-Babies crawling on my ceiling at ten o’clock at night.”_

_“I’m Spider-_ Man _, not Spider-_ Baby-”

_“No? ‘Cause you sure sound like a baby right now with all that whining. Swing down here, let me hear this new idea of yours.”_

_“Oh, you’re going to love it, Mr. Stark. What do you think about glow in the dark webs?”_

Peter smiled to himself. He imagined that somewhere around here, Mr. Stark still had that twisted strip of paper Peter had used to write down his calculations that day. It had really just been for fun, and the paper was useless, but Mr. Stark had always been sentimental when it came to the things Peter did.

_… twisted strip of paper…_

Peter had stood and walked over to the desk before his idea had fully formed. “FRIDAY, can we run another simulation? Try it as a Mobius strip, inverted. Yeah, like that. And just… can I get the eigenvalue of… this particle, right here. Factoring in spectral decomposition? Thanks, FRI, you’re the best.”

“Just a minute.”

His hands clenched at his sides as he watched the simulation develop. With every shift in particles, the probability of success grew, until the counter stopped at 99.987 percent. A line flashed green. Simulation complete.

“Simulation number 381: success.” FRIDAY said, but Peter’s legs had already given out. 

He stared at the readings. Time travel. He’d just solved time travel. Holy cow he’d just figured out how to _time travel oh my God-_

Peter’s lungs reminded him that he needed to breathe. He gulped in a pint of oxygen before standing up on shaky legs and walking back to the desk. The model was only part of the problem. There was still work to be done.

_I’m coming May. I’m coming Mr. Stark. I’m coming, Ned, MJ, everybody. I’m bringing you home._

\---

Peter built the navigator in the design of a watch, both for the irony of it and the convenience.

He and Dr. Banner had worked out all the kinks, and a day after Peter had successfully run the simulation, they had a fully functioning time machine for each member of the Avengers and enough Pym Particles for a round trip for all of them, plus two extra in case something went wrong. Peter could only hope they wouldn’t need them.

Harley and Scott had worked on the suits, using Scott’s Ant-Man suit as a base design and improving on it. They did their best to fit it to each Avengers’ needs; Rhodey needed a mechanical suit to adapt to his leg braces, Dr. Banner needed a larger suit to accommodate his size, Rocket needed a smaller suit to accommodate _his_ size, etc., but it all worked out in the end. 

The actual time machine itself was another story. Even with every Avenger pitching in, it still took them a month to complete the structure, and another week to get the mechanics up and running.

They used Clint for a trial run. He’d come back when Black Widow had told him that they had a way to bring everyone back. When he returned from the quantum realm, he’d looked shaken and had asked to take a walk, an old baseball mitt in his hand that had not been there before. Peter didn’t need to ask to know that it had worked.

By the time the time machine was functioning at full capacity, it was 6 months after the Snap. Peter donned his suit with the rest of the Avengers and marched onto the platform, the quantum realm navigator burning his wrist.

Harley was at the control board, overseeing the entire operation. He gave them a thumbs up. “All good here, you are clear for takeoff.”

“Thanks Harley. See you soon.”

“You better.”

Peter watched Rogers during his speech, nodding at all the right places, but he wasn’t really listening. His heart pounded in his chest from the adrenaline high he was riding. He could feel his hands shaking, so he shoved them behind his back and let them fidget out of sight of the others. Nebula shot him a look, but he waved her off with a shaky thumbs up and a smile, and she turned her attention back to Rogers’ pep talk, knowing better than to question him in front of the other Avengers.

A part of Peter was stuck on that point. He was surrounded by _the Avengers._ Scratch that, he was a _member_ of the Avengers. Mr. Stark had named him one on that flying donut all those months ago. And now here he was, helping to save the universe, like a true Avenger would.

“Whatever it takes,” Rogers said, “good luck.”

He stepped back, and Peter followed. They made up the largest group, along with Scott and Dr. Banner. Peter gave a reassuring smile to Rhodey and Nebula, who stood across from him. Nebula nodded, looking him over one final time as if checking to see that he was still in one piece. She’d come to the lab every once in a while to help him with the inner workings of the time machine and to remind him to eat. Ever since the argument with Rogers, she’d been frequenting the Compound more often to keep an eye on him, which was more comforting than annoying at this point. They’d even patrolled together once or twice. She’d offered to take him with her when she and Rocket left on one of their excursions, but he’d seen enough of space for the time being. For now, he was determined to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground. Well, except when he was Spider-Manning. Or flying in the Quinjet. Or traveling through the quantum realm. 

The machine started up, and Peter glanced at the ceiling. Everything was looking good, for now. He shot one last look over at Harley, who gave him another thumbs up.

The next second, Peter and the other Avengers were being sucked into the Quantum Realm in a blinding flash of light.

_Whatever it takes._

\---

New York City, circa 2012, was, in Peter’s humble opinion, complete and utter chaos.

The Chitauri were everywhere. Buildings crumbled to the ground without a second’s warning. Avengers ran into and out of sight at random. No one knew which way was up, only that every way meant danger, and they needed to get the hell out of Dodge.

When the Chitauri invasion had struck, Peter had been in school. They’d huddled together in the corner of their classroom, crying, while his teacher fought off a panic attack. He could still remember clutching Ned’s jacket as they clung to each other, hoping that the aliens wouldn’t come for them next.

If only Peter had known that the aliens wouldn’t come to him; he would go to them.

Dr. Banner had split off from their group to go find the time stone, while Peter, Scott, and Rogers had made their way to the former Stark Tower. Peter now wore his Iron Spider suit, and had opted to scale the Tower with a tiny Scott on his shoulder, while Rogers stayed below to get Loki’s scepter.

He cut the window open as quietly as he could and crawled through. Mr. Stark didn’t talk about the Chitauri Invasion often, and when he did it was with vague asides and misleading comments about bravery and courage, but the one time Peter did get him to talk, he’d said that it was one of the scariest days of his life. It wasn’t hard to see why, what with the flying-through-an-alien-portal-to-save-the-world thing. So being here, when it all went down, felt like an invasion of privacy. These were Mr. Stark’s secrets. Peter had no right to them.

They hid behind a wall, and Peter risked a glance at the scene in the lounge. Loki was on the floor, surrounded by the Avengers. Black Widow was there, as was Hawkeye and Thor. Dr. Banner was bigger and greener, and Rogers was in his old Captain America uniform, proudly glaring down at the god before him. And there, closest to Peter, was Mr. Stark, in an older version of his armor, broken and tattered but alive, standing with the rest of the Avengers, keeping Loki at bay.

He had to tear his eyes away before the tears came. _It’s not him, not really. Focus, Peter, now is not the time to lose your cool._

Footsteps echoed behind him, and he turned back around. The 2012 Avengers were moving into the elevator, the Tesseract secured in a briefcase. Peter scaled down the building again.

“This must freak a lot of people out, when you climb buildings like this.” Scott said, voice a bit tinny over the com.

“Some,” Peter admitted, “but most of the time people think it’s cool.”

“Oh. Duly noted, then.”

Peter slipped inside the entrance, crawling up the wall to perch on the ceiling. The briefcase was in Mr. Stark’s hands as he talked with some men in black.

“We gotta get that briefcase.” _But how?_ Peter’s brain went into overdrive trying to think of possible solutions. There were too many people to do it inconspicuously, and there was no way they were just going to hand it over to them. _Hey Mr. Stark, I’m from the future and I need that powerful weapon to save half the universe and bring you back to life! Thanks!_

“...I could shrink the suitcase?”

Peter paused, looking at where Scott clung to his shoulder. “You can do that?”

“Sure. Just gotta zap it, then bam, tiny briefcase. You’re going to have to web me back up here though. Think you can see me when I’m that small?”

He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Probably. If not, then just run out the door, I’ll meet you outside.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Peter grimaced. “Don’t call me that.”

“Uh, okay. Aye aye, Spider-Man.”

“Better.”

With that, Scott leapt from Peter’s shoulder and dove toward the ground, landing with an _oomph!_ Peter watched his progress across the floor as he wove between legs and made his way to the briefcase.

“Alright Peter, I’m in position. You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be. Let’s do this thing.”

A second later, the briefcase shrunk. Mr. Stark startled, staring down at his hand in bewilderment. “What the hell-”

“Find the Tesseract!”

“Does anybody have eyes on the Tesseract?”

“Brother, what is this?!”

Peter extended his arm, waiting for Scott to get within range. “You still got me, Pete?”

“I see you, just a couple more fe-”

The wall exploded. Peter whipped his head around to see the Hulk step through the rubble.

“Oh no, come on jolly green, cut us some slack here! Dammit… Peter, I’m headed to the front desk, see if you can-gah!”

The Hulk stomped his way toward the entrance, screaming “NO MORE STAIRS!” as he smashed his fists through the reception desk. 

“Scott?! I can’t see you!”

“Hang on, hang on, I just… have… to… there, I’m at the wall behind the desk. Better hurry, the big guy is closing in fast.”

Peter scanned the floor near the wall, finally picking out a dark fleck on the pristine white floor.

“Karen, can you-”

“Already on it, Peter.”

Karen zoomed in, and Peter saw Scott press his back to the wall as the Hulk drew closer. “I see you, get ready.”

“Any day now Pet-AAAAAAAH!”

The web closed around Scott’s frame, and Peter yanked him back as the Hulk smashed through to the outside of Stark Tower. He caught Scott in his hand and ran across the ceiling, breaking through a window and taking off down the street.

“Oh my God, ohhhkay, I think I just threw up in my suit, oh my God, okay, okay, that was _crazy,_ that was-”

Ignoring Scott, Peter switched over to Rogers’ com link. “Rogers, we got the Tesseract, how are you doing over there?”

“Give… me… another _umph!-_ minute, found some _ugh!-_ trouble…” He sounded winded, and Peter winced in sympathy when the man grunted in pain.

“You need help, Cap? We can make a detour-”

“No, I _eh!-_ I got this. Meet you in… ten…”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked. “It’s a short trip up.”

“Just _ugh!-_ just go!”

Peter nodded even though Rogers couldn’t see it. “We’ll meet you there.” He switched over to Dr. Banner’s com. “Dr. Banner? We got the Tesseract, how are you doing with the time stone?”

The line crackled as Dr. Banner’s voice came online. “I’ve got it. It took a bit of negotiating though. Once we’re done, we have to return the stones back to their original timeline.”

“What? Why? Can’t we just… destroy them? Y’know, make sure they can never fall into the wrong hands again? The whole superhero schtick?”

“It’s not that simple, Scott. When we take the stones out of their place in this reality, it creates an alternate timeline. We could be destroying a whole other reality. The only way to stop that from happening is to return them back to the time they were stolen.” Dr. Banner explained.

Peter sighed. _There’s always a catch._ “Okay, so we’ll return them. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“Let’s hope not,” came Rogers’ voice, “I’ve got the scepter, meet at the rendezvous in 5.”

Rogers was the last to arrive in the alley they had all warped to. Scott was now back to his regular size, briefcase in hand. Dr. Banner had the time stone clutched in his fist, while Rogers carried the scepter tightly in his right hand. “We ready?”

“More than ready.”

“Then let’s go.”

They tapped their navigators and entered the Quantum realm. Blues and greens sped by from outside Peter’s helmet. He must have spent only seconds flying through tunnels of light, but it might as well have been years with how anxious Peter was. He focused on the light ahead and tried not to let the doubts creep into his head.

_What if we didn’t get them all? What if the machine malfunctioned? What if someone got hurt? What if what if what if…_

Peter felt a tug, and suddenly he was yanked back to the present, Rogers on his right, Scott on his left. The group was in the same circle they had been when they left.

“Is everyone okay?” He glanced between Rhodey and Nebula. Rhodey smiled tightly, but Nebula… well, she didn’t even look at him. _Weird._ “Did we get them all? We’ve got the Tesseract and the time stone and the scepter back from New York, did you guys-”

_Thud._

Peter stopped his panicked rambling. Clint Barton was on his knees, staring blankly into the distance. Natasha Romanoff was nowhere in sight.

“Clint,” Dr. Banner took a tentative step forward as the dread began to settle in the air, “where’s Nat?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Black Widow was gone.

\---

The mood was sombre in the Compound. Peter hadn’t really known Natasha Romanoff. He’d talked to her in passing, but other than exchanging occasional pleasantries, they had never really spoken. She had been busy organizing ops for the remaining Avengers and trying to keep the world from collapsing, while Peter had been busy researching ways to get the Snapped back. The loss still hit him, and he shed a few tears, but it was more for the loss of one of his heroes than for the loss of the woman herself.

It was quiet, now. They’d already completed an infinity gauntlet for the occasion, and it had been decided that Dr. Banner would be the one to use it, seeing as the radiation thrown off by the stones would affect him less, given his history. Rogers evacuated the Compound; Peter had sent Pepper away with Happy, despite her insistence that she stay with him. 

“Pepper, if something goes wrong and something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t lose anyone else, Pepper, _please…”_

She’d nodded, tears in her eyes, and hugged him to her chest one last time. “Stay safe, Peter. I can’t lose you either. I know you want them back, but don’t get yourself hurt doing it okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

She kissed his forehead. “I know.”

Ava had gone with them, though Harley had stayed. He’d made up his mind, and Peter doubted that anyone could change it. At least he had his suit; it would provide some sort of protection if anything went wrong.

The group walked into the panic room in the Compound. Only Nebula was absent. Peter was worried about her; no one had seen her all day, and she’d acted strange when she’d walked off the platform after the news broke. He knew she’d been working closely with Black Widow for intel, but he hadn’t expected her to take the news so hard. Hawkeye, Rogers, and Dr. Banner, yes, even Thor and Colonel Rhodes, but not her.

Peter glanced at the door one more time. Still no sign of Nebula. _Guess she’s not coming._ _Weird._ He looked up at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, seal us in.”

“On it, Peter.”

In moments, they were encased in two layers of steel, two feet thick for each layer. All camera and audio feeds were shut down. No one could get in. No one could get out.

Peter and Harley activated their suits. Harley’s suit was a deep green and blue instead of Peter’s red and navy. It was accented with gold down the arms and torso, in honor of the Iron-Man suit. Peter had only seen Harley in it once before, during a trial run. It functioned the same as Mr. Stark’s: thrusters on both hands and feet. But Harley’s suit looked more like Peter’s. It had the same sleek design and the same armored plating. The only difference was the arc reactor in the center. “For Tony,” Harley said when Peter had asked about it, and that had been that.

[Art](https://writing-in-my-spare-time.tumblr.com/post/621215307948818432)

“Are we ready,” asked Rogers. There were a few 'yes's,' and Rogers nodded. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

The group fanned out and braced themselves as Dr. Banner slid on the gauntlet. Peter formed a joint shield with Harley and moved to protect Hawkeye, who stood to the side without any cover. The man sent them a grateful nod before focusing his gaze back on Dr. Banner. 

The room held its breath as the gauntlet grew to fit Dr. Banner’s hand. It settled, and finally clicked into place, the stones glowing from their place in the glove.

A second of silence.

An instant later, Dr. Banner sucked in a breath. He fell to one knee, grabbing at the gauntlet as lightning shot up his arm, ripping through his shirt and skin, burning away flesh. A horrible scream ripped from Dr. Banner’s throat. The sound drilled through Peter’s head, and he lowered the auditory input from his suit.

“Take it off, take it off!” Thor yelled, waving his arms maniacally. Rogers shot out a hand.

“No, wait! Bruce, are you okay?!” Asked Rogers. Dr. Banner cried out again in reply.

“Dr. Banner, please, you need to talk to us! Are you okay? Do you think you can do it? Dr. Banner!” Peter’s voice sounded raw and scared even to his own ears, but his desperation had kicked up to the nth degree. Dr. Banner was still on one knee, breathing heavily. It didn’t look like he could move, let alone snap his fingers. “It’s killing him, we gotta get it off-”

“No!” Dr. Banner lifted his eyes to meet Peter’s, and then looked over at Rogers. “I’m okay. I can do this. I’m okay.”

Peter slumped with relief, as did the rest of the room. Rogers nodded. “Do it.”

Dr. Banner took a deep breath, raised his fingers, and snapped. Blinding light swallowed everything for one second, then disappeared the next. The gauntlet clattered to the floor, and with it, Bruce Banner.

“Bruce!”

“Dr. Banner!”

Everyone crowded around the figure on the floor. Peter, now sans shield, dropped to his knees next to Dr. Banner’s head. He scanned his arm, and had to fight to keep the bile down.

It was barely an _arm_ anymore. Blackened and charred, it lay useless at Dr. Banner’s side, still smoking. Deep gashes were etched into what used to be skin. With Peter’s enhanced senses, the smell of burnt skin was nearly overpowering.

Harley kicked the gauntlet away from the group and pushed forward. “Move,” he yelled, knocking Rogers out of the way as he settled next to Dr. Banner’s scarred arm. He stretched out his arm and sprayed something white and crystal-like onto the wound, the same substance that Mr. Stark had used on his side on Titan. 

“Where’d you get that?”

Harley glanced up at him before resuming his work. “In Tony’s lab. He’d been working on something for temporary relief in the field. Never got to test it out.”

“He did. On Titan. He used it on himself.” Peter’s eyes met Harley’s. “He told me that it’d hold.”

He stared at Peter, then nodded. “Then it’ll hold.”

They held each other’s gaze for a second longer, and then Peter was up and moving, headed towards the windows. “FRIDAY, take us out of lockdown, please.”

“Lifting lockdown now.”

“How do we know if it worked?” Colonel Rhodes asked. Peter was at a loss to answer him when a phone rang. He turned to see Hawkeye walk cautiously towards a cellphone on the table. He answered it.

“Laura,” he said, and then broke down when a voice on the other end answered. Peter turned away, giving them at least a cursory sense of privacy. He smiled as it sunk in.

_We did it. We brought them back._

Behind him, Harley cheered. Peter started laughing, and the tears began to stream down his face. Harley ran up to him and clapped him on the shoulder, which turned into a hug as they cackled in glee.

“Holy crap, we did it, we actually did it Harley, we brought them back, my Aunt, Mr. Stark, Ned, MJ, _everyone,_ we did it oh my God-”

Peter choked on his next word, tensing despite not knowing why. If he could see his arm, he was sure he would see his hairs standing at attention.

He pried himself from Harley’s arms and whipped around toward the window. Outside, a ship floated twenty feet from the Compound. Peter’s ears could pick up the whir of machinery as the ship took aim.

_“GET DOWN!!!”_

Peter threw himself at Harley, managing to shield him with his body as the first missile struck the Compound. The building collapsed around them; shards of glass twinkled in the dying lights as support beams and plaster came tumbling down. The other Avengers cried out, losing their footing when the floor disappeared beneath them, taking the rest of the Compound with it. Through the roar of crumbling walls, Peter could hear his name being called. _Rogers._ He opened his mouth to reply just as a chunk of concrete collided with his head. The last thing he knew was Harley’s hands on his shoulders and a dizzying fall into darkness. 

\---

“...ter...pete...Peter...Peter! PETER!”

Peter jerked awake. Above him, Harley choked on a wet laugh and stopped shaking his shoulders. “Shit, I thought you were dead, don’t _scare_ me like that, man!”

“Wha…?”

“The Compound was attacked,” Harley explained as he sat back on his heels, “I don’t know where the others are. We got separated.”

_Right._ “The missiles… oh shit, _Thanos,_ the gauntlet, where-?”

Harley shook his head. “I don’t know. Last I saw, it was on the ground. It could be anywhere.”

_“Shit!_ Okay, okay, that’s okay, that means Thanos can’t find it either,” he reasoned, sitting up and taking stock of his injuries. Nothing too bad; his head ached, and his ankle felt weird when he moved it, but the suit had taken the brunt of the impact. He moved on to Harley, and found no obvious injuries there either. Good. Nothing holding them back. Next order of business- getting out.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he could see that they were in a small space surrounded by various pieces of rubble and debris. The only thing stopping two giant slabs of concrete from collapsing on them were three steel support beams that criss-crossed above them. They creaked ominously under the weight.

“We can’t stay here,” he said, pushing himself into a crouch and searching for an exit. Harley pointed behind him; there was a small hole between a few pieces of rubble, filtering in light from the outside world that lay beyond.

“That’s the only way out that I can see,” said Harley, “but I can barely get my head through there.”

Peter tested the weight of the concrete slab, gingerly lifting it a centimeter. Bits of rubble fell from above, but nothing collapsed. It would have to do. He looked at Harley.

“On my mark, climb through that hole. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Peter, no, that’s insane, this thing is unstable as it is, if you lift it-”

“I have a better shot than you Harley, now get ready-”

“Peter-”

“-three, two, one, gAH!”

The concrete shifted as he pushed against the slab, and Harley, seeing no other option, tumbled through the opening. The supports above him creaked as they started to give under the shifting pressure.

“Peter NOW!”

With one massive shove, Peter thrust the concrete upwards and dove for the opening. He fell into Harley just as the building collapsed behind him in a plume of smoke, leaving no trace of the small crawl space they were in moments before. Harley wrapped an arm around his chest and yanked him back as a chunk of rubble slid and crashed into the dirt in front of them, an inch from Peter’s toe.

Seconds passed in silence as they caught their breath. Peter closed his eyes and let his head thunk against Harley’s chest as the memories washed over him. He’d been steering clear of empty warehouses and construction sites since the Toomes Incident, and while the memories still lingered, the nightmares had been replaced by images of Mr. Stark turning to ash below him. The panic of a crumbling building was nothing compared to that. So while, yes, the memory of that day still brought on varying degrees of panic, the drive to save Mr. Stark pushed it away again, though he was sure that his nightmares would not be so easily cast aside a second time.

Behind him, Harley blew out a shaky breath. “Okay, holy crap, that was incredible, Peter, nice work.”

“Thanks.” He made to stand, but Harley pulled him back down, a hand on his shoulder as he looked him over.

“You okay?”

Peter took another breath to steady himself. “Yeah, thanks Harley. It’s just… bad memories.”

The boy nodded. “I get it, it’s fine. And I’m sorry to rush you, but Thanos is about to face off with Cap and Thor, and we kind of need to move _._ Like, now. _”_

“What? Where?” Harley pointed to their left, and Peter followed his finger until he saw two men striding towards a familiar figure in gold battle armor, sitting on a pile of rubble. Thor and Rogers looked fine, if dirty. Rogers was still holding that damn shield, and Thor was wreathed in blue lightning, a hammer in one hand and an axe in the other. Thanos sat quietly, watching them approach, unconcerned. _They won’t be enough._ “We-we gotta help-”

“Peter, that’s one of the strongest beings alive.”

“Yeah, so they’re going to need all the help they can get!”

Harley hesitated. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m as good as I’m gonna get, but we’re _wasting time._ If Thanos finds the stones-”

“I know, I know, just… we’ve gotta be careful Peter. Don’t take any dumb risks, if you can help it.”

Peter grinned at him. “Sorry to disappoint, but dumb risks are kinda my specialty. Why do you think Mr. Stark is going gray so fast?” He webbed away before Harley could reply, but he could hear his laughter through the coms as the helmet formed over his head. 

It only took a few seconds to reach the group. Rogers spotted him first, but quickly flicked his eyes back to Thanos. _Keeping the attention off me._ They were talking, trading meaningless words back and forth until the other made a move. It was a decent enough strategy, but it wouldn’t work for long. There was only so much time Thanos could monologue.

Harley fanned out to his right, flanking Thanos from behind, while Thor and Rogers spread out in front of him. Thanos made no move to stop them, just stayed sitting, his double-bladed sword stuck in the dirt at his side.

“Why isn’t he doing anything?”

“Maybe he’s overconfident?”

"But why? He’s got two of the most powerful people in the world staring him down, he doesn’t have any backup, he doesn’t have the stones, what… _oh shit."_

“What?”

“He’s stalling. He’s probably got someone inside looking for the stones right now.”

“...shit.”

“We gotta move, _now.”_

“Wait, we need a plan-”

“I have a plan,” he webbed the rubble in front of him and shot himself forward, “attack.”

Thanos turned just in time to catch a face full of Peter’s fist. Harley cursed behind him and shot over the rubble, aiming a repulsor at Thanos’ legs. Rogers flung his shield, Thor threw his axe, and Thanos dodged them both. Peter flipped back and landed fifteen feet away, facing forward, the other fanning out behind him. “Hey Thanos," Peter said, grinning, "miss me?”

Thanos looked down at him, eyes crinkling. “I don’t even know you.”

Peter scoffed at that. “Really, because I feel like I made a decent impression, what with the webs and kicking your ass through the portals and you slamming me on the ground. But hey, maybe I punched you so hard you forgot.” He cracked his knuckles. “Maybe if I punch you again it’ll come back.”

Thanos leaned back slightly, taking him in. “I doubt that.”

“Spider-Man,” Rogers said, taking a step towards him, “it’s not our Thanos. This one’s from the past, before he got the stones.”

“Seriously?” Said Harley, repulsors at the ready. He glanced between them. “How’d he get here? He’d need Pym particles, and the only way to get those would be-”

“-from one of us.” Peter finished, puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. “Nebula.”

“What?”

He looked back at Rogers. “She was acting weird when she got back from the quantum realm. I thought Black Widow’s death just hit her harder than the rest of us but…” he turned back to Thanos, “it wasn’t really her, was it?”

“You’re clever,” he replied, giving him another appraising once over. “I discovered your plans when my daughter connected with your Nebula. We captured yours, and sent back mine to let us through-”

“Where is she?”

Thanos paused, head cocking to the side like a curious dog. “You care about her,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Peter advanced slowly, his trigger finger itching for an excuse to fire. “Where. Is. She?”

Slowly, Thanos drew up to his full height, towering above Peter. “I have her locked away, under guard.” He told him. “She may even be dead.”

The first kick missed, but it felt good to lash out all the same. Peter screamed out his rage, firing web after web until one finally hit, pinning Thanos’ hand to the ground as Peter landed a punch to his jaw. It was only a little satisfying to see the thin trickle of blood that followed.

“NO!” The webs snapped, and Thanos rolled away, grabbing his sword. “I WON’T LET YOU TAKE ANYONE ELSE!” Another punch, this one far too wide to hit. “NO ONE ELSE!” 

Arms wrapped around his shoulders and dragged him back. He fought them, but they held fast. In front of him, Harley and Thor closed in on Thanos, laying barrage after barrage on him with lightning and repulsor blasts.

“Peter, you need to calm down.”

“Let me go, Rogers!”

“Only if you promise not to kill yourself going after Thanos.”

Peter struggled against his restraints, kicking out at Rogers’ shins. “Let me go!”

“Peter, I am not going to let you die before seeing Tony again, so either shape up, or I’m knocking you out.”

He stilled. _Mr. Stark. May. Ned, MJ. They’re back, Dr. Banner did it._

_What the hell am I doing?!_

Rogers must have seen his body language change, because he released Peter and stepped back. “Thank you. Now we just have to end this, and we’ll see everyone again.” He glanced at Peter. “Think you can help with that?”

_Mr. Stark, May, Ned, MJ. Mr. Stark, May, Ned, MJ. Mr. Stark, May, Ned, MJ._

He grinned at Rogers. “Yeah, I think I can.”

\---

Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.

After ten minutes of fighting, Thanos was still standing. No matter what he, Harley, Thor, or Rogers did, Thanos always seemed to have the upper hand. Rogers would bash him with his shield, Thanos would sweep his legs. Thor would strike him with lightning, he would shrug it off. Harley would send a billion missiles at his great big purple face, and somehow Thanos would dodge every single one of them. Even his webs couldn’t keep Thanos down; they snapped like uncooked spaghetti in his hands. Every new idea was struck down instantly, and the frustration combined with the exhaustion was starting to take its toll. Rogers was getting slower, taking more hits than he usually would, and Thor’s lightning blasts were becoming weaker and weaker. Harley nearly flew into a pile of debris on one of his pass-bys. Even Peter wasn’t immune; he was over-estimating his swings, and it had nearly cost him when he’d gone too low and almost face-planted in the dirt.

As Rogers reared back from a blow to the stomach, Peter swung low and shot a web at the ground near Thanos’ feet and looped around until both of his legs were tied tightly together, bringing him to his knees He dropped down and manage to land exactly two punches before Thanos broke free and grabbed him around the waist, prying him off with one meaty hand. 

“Insolent _insect,”_ he spat, and threw Peter across the ground. He tucked and rolled, popping back up and going in for another go while Thor distracted him with his axe. 

“Oh, are we giving each other nicknames now? Can I call you giant purple nutsack, then, ‘cause that chin is just _super_ nutsacky, and I think it really suits you.” He webbed the titan’s hand and pulled it out of a punch aimed for Rogers. While he was off-balance, Harley shot a repulsor blast at him, which Thanos just barely blocked with his double-edged sword. “Were you born with a chin that big, or did it grow out of your face like that? If my Aunt saw my chin growing _that big_ she would absolutely _freak-”_

Thanos chucked a piece of a steel beam at his head. Peter webbed it at the end and swung it back at him. “Do you ever stop talking?” He roared.

“Mmm, nope, not really, it’s part of my charm, I think. Why, am I bothering you?” That earned him a punch to the stomach, which sent him flying. He slammed into a pile of rubble and felt a rib snap. “Ow.”

Thanos stalked toward him. “I am going to crush you under my heel like the _pest_ you are.”

Peter staggered to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side. _Damn, not good._ Out loud, he said, “yeah, I’m gonna have to pass, maybe take a rain check?” He scurried out of Thanos’s reach, and fell back behind Rogers, who threw his shield at Thanos’ legs.

“Peter, if you keep pissing him off like that-”

“Then he’ll get sloppy. Anger makes you reckless, wasn’t that your whole point, like, ten minutes ago?”

Rogers grabbed his shield out of the air as it came careening back toward him. Harley sliced at Thanos’ head and missed by inches. “Yes, but he’ll be gunning for you-”

“ _Then make sure he doesn’t get me, Rogers.”_ Peter hissed, throwing a chunk of concrete at Thanos. He dodged, predictably, but turned his attention to Peter. _Perfect._ “You guys need to get him while I’m distracting him. He’s bound to make a mistake eventually.”

“I don’t like this, Peter. Thanos is clever; he will not make a mistake easily.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, especially when they’re angry. He’s no different.”

Peter leapt away from a kick aimed at his knees and jumped at Thanos’ outstretched hand. “Hey, can you give me a lift to the nearest Chipotle? I’m not wearing my walking shoes-” He was pulled off once again, but this time Thanos slammed him into the ground. _“Ack,_ deja vu, much?”

“I take no pleasure in killing, bug, but your death won’t sting as much as the others.” Thanos raised his meaty fist, and Peter saw death closing in.

At the last second, he raised his wrist and shot a web straight at Thanos' fist, securing him to a pile of rubble, giving him just enough of a pause to wriggle out of his hold. “Aw, Thanos, you’re makin’ me blush. Sadly, my heart belongs to another-”

_“ENOUGH!”_

With a scream of rage, Thanos swatted at Peter as he leapt into the air, leaving his chest open. He saw the realization in his eyes as he overbalanced, but by then it was too late. Rogers’ shield soared through the air, hitting its mark with a satisfying _oomph!_ and knocking Thanos off his feet. Thor threw his hammer, Harley shot his repulsors, and Peter shot his webs in tandem, and when the dust cleared, Thanos was on the ground, unmoving.

They circled around him, arms at the ready, but there was no sign of resistance from the figure on the ground.

Harley was the first one to break the silence. “Holy shit, we did it.”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah,” he said, and then shot a look at Rogers, “told you it would work.”

“This time. Don’t get in that habit of making yourself a target. It doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.”

“I don’t plan on it, O Mighty Captain.” He knelt down next to Thanos. “What now?”

“I could always drop him into a black hole,” said Thor.

Harley hummed. “It might not work though, we don’t know what’s on the other side of those things. What if it’s, like, a portal to another dimension, and he just kills everyone over there?”

“We can’t doom another universe, we’ll just have to figure something else out.” Rogers said, arms crossed over his chest, shield on his back.

Thor readied his axe. “I could kill him again.”

Rogers pinched the bridge of his nose. “As much as I don’t condone murder, that may be our best option, at this point.”

Harley shrugged, but there was a tension to his shoulder that wasn’t there a moment before. “He did kill trillions of innocent beings.”

Rogers looked down at him. “Peter?”

Peter bit his lip. It was the best way to make sure that Thanos would never come back, but still, two wrongs don’t make a right. He wasn’t in this to kill anybody, he just wanted his family back. But at the same time, what good would that be if they were constantly being threatened by the possible return of a nigh indestructible enemy? There were just too many variables. Too many risks. And he’d promised to keep his family safe from now on, so if that meant making the hard call… then Peter would do it. Whatever it takes.

“I think…" he said slowly, "everyone would be a lot safer if Thanos wasn’t here anymore. We just got everyone back; we can’t afford to risk them again.”

Rogers stared at him as he spoke, scrutinizing every word that came out of his mouth, but made no comment until he was done. “Alright then. It’s settled.”

The air was heavy. A question hung between them, but Peter couldn’t find the courage to ask it. He didn’t have to-Thor answered it readily enough when he stepped forward, the blade of his axe glinting in the light.

Peter looked down at Thanos one last time. It was hard to see him as the being who destroyed half of all life in the universe, now, with webbing covering him head to toe and a giant dent in his golden armor. There were a few burns on him, from the lightning and repulsor blasts, but other than that, he looked almost… normal.

“Peter, move aside.” Thor loomed above him, every bit the executioner.

“Yeah, sorry.” He stood, but the chills that ran up his spine stopped him cold. _Something’s wrong._ He looked around; nothing caught his eye. Harley and Rogers were still behind him, staring worriedly as Peter whipped his head left and right, trying to find the reason for his senses to be acting up. Thor placed a hand on his shoulder, but his words fell on deaf ears. All Peter could hear was a low buzzing and the pounding of his own heart.

Harley grabbed his other arm. “Pete? You good, man?”

_Danger danger danger danger danger danger_ “Something’s wrong.”

“What? Pete-”

And then he heard it. Shallow breaths turned into one great gasp, and suddenly Thanos was standing, unrestrained, sword in hand, eyes blood red in their anger as they focused in on Peter. _You’re next,_ they said.

God fucking _dammit,_ they’d taken too long.

By the time the rest of them had realized what was going on, it was too late. Peter leapt as high as he could, but Thanos clawed him out of the air, and by pure bad luck, caught Harley as well. They hit the ground hard, Peter's breath leaving him with a _whoosh_ as they tumbled into a pile of rubble _._ Steve started toward them, but Thanos smacked him with the broad side of his sword, sending him flying back in the opposite direction. Thor was batted away easily with a chunk of concrete to the chest as he made a last ditch attempt to finish Thanos off. In a matter of seconds, the tables had turned, and the heroes were left panting on the ground at the mercy of the most powerful being in the universe.

Thanos dusted himself off, using his sword as a crutch to lean on as he turned away from them. “You are all delaying the inevitable. This was always meant to happen. No matter how long you struggle against the current, it will consume you, in the end.” He stepped up onto a large hunk of debris, raising his free hand. “These are the fruits of your labor. These will _always_ be the fruits of your labor.”

Through the blurriness of his vision, Peter could just see Thanos walking away from them, picking his way through the remains of the Compound. _Where is he going? To search for Nebula? Why would he just leave us like this, he was trying to kill us a second ago… Fuck, I gotta get up, whatever he wants, it’s not gonna be good-shit, shit, shit shit shit shit SHIT!_

His body wouldn’t move. The bill had finally come due, and the stress and exhaustion from the past few weeks joined with his cracked ribs and concussion to render his body useless. Not that it mattered much anyway-he couldn’t take on Thanos alone, and by the looks of it, none of them were getting up anytime soon. Whatever Thanos’ plan was, it was going to happen whether they liked it or not.

He wasn’t kept in suspense for long. In a blinding flash of blue light, Thanos’ army appeared before them. Thousands of creatures stood in hundreds of rows, dominating the terrain. All brandished weapons, whether they be spears, swords, knives, or even batons. Some were actually riding other creatures, who snarled through pointy teeth and drooled onto the cold dirt. Ships converged above the army, too many to count. Giant, hulking ships that just carried more soldiers, more beasts, and more weapons.

_Maybe I shouldn’t have made him angry,_ Peter thought hysterically.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Peter looked up, and suddenly Thanos was there, smiling down at him with big ugly teeth, and _oh shit, I said that out loud_. “I told you, insect: I am going to crush you under my heel, until there is nothing left of you but scraps of metal and dust.”

He couldn’t help it-he started to cry. Everything around him was broken or on fire or both, and the only help he could find were three other people who were in just as bad a shape as him. Even if they did manage to defeat Thanos, his army would slaughter them like cattle. After everything they’d done, it was going to end here, with Peter in the dirt and Thanos looming above him, ready to swing the final blow while Peter bawled his eyes out, wishing for a future he couldn’t have.

He wanted May. He wanted to hold her again and watch crappy movies with her on their crappy couch, and laugh at the CGI and the bad acting while they stuffed cheesy popcorn down their throats as they curled under the blankets.

He wanted Ned, his Guy-in-the-Chair, the only one he could nerd out over Star Wars with, who helped him stop crime and build lego sets all without leaving his room, who always knew the right thing to say when he felt like crap, who was his best friend, through thick and thin.

He wanted MJ, wanted to see her smile again, wanted to see the light catch in her hair, wanted to see her stand up to Flash one more time, and to ask her out on a date, maybe, if he could ever find the courage.

Right now, though, what he really wanted was Mr. Stark. The one who always put Peter first, and himself second, the one who protected him, always, and picked him back up when he had fallen down, and whose smile meant _safe,_ and whose arms always felt like home.

Peter watched Thanos lean over him through the tears, and felt death crawl up his back.

Before the blow landed, his com crackled to life.

“Hey kid. Sorry I’m late, my invite must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the next galaxy over.”

Peter’s breath caught.

Behind him, orange light illuminated the battlefield. Hundreds of glowing portals opened, and out walked an army. Peter stared in awe as the Black Panther stepped through, Princess Shuri at his side, the rest of the Wakandan army appearing to flank them. Asgardians ran through with swords and shields at the ready. There were wizards, and aliens, and ships, and even a pegasus.

And in the middle of it all, the Iron-Man armor glinted, shiny and new, as it flew above them like a guardian angel.

The silence was heavy. Everyone on the field stared at the new arrivals, not daring to speak. They were all waiting for something, anything, to send them over the sheer cliff they found themselves on and plunge them into battle.

And, well, Peter never did know how to keep his mouth shut, anyway.

He looked up at Thanos as he stared across the valley, lips parted, the closest Peter had ever seen him to being surprised, and shifted to a crouch. The titan caught the movement and swung his head to look down at him.

Peter smiled through the tears. “Well, that’s my cue.”

He took off, webbing two pieces of rubble and slingshotting himself towards Rogers, who stood at the head of their new allies, waiting, assessing, Thor on his right, Harley on his left. Peter took his place next to Rogers, between him and Harley, Mr. Stark watching over them from on high. Rogers looked at Peter, and Peter nodded back.

Captain America turned back to Thanos’ army. His back straightened, his chin rose, and through the grime he seemed to glow.

“Avengers!”

Peter squatted down, readying himself. Next to him, Harley powered up his repulsors, and on his right, Thor readied his axe. Cap raised his shield.

“Assemble.”

The two armies clashed beneath the setting sun.

\---

DAYBREAK

\---

Peter found Mr. Stark right before the man got stabbed _again,_ and really, he thought, Mr. Stark should know how to avoid being stabbed by now, he’d only been Iron-Man for _over a decade,_ after all.

He webbed the offending creature’s arm and yanked him back just as Scott walked by, crushing the alien under his feet. Peter waited for Scott to pass before jumping down from the rubble and sprinting over to Mr. Stark.

For a man who’d been dead for six months, he looked pretty good; his armor was back in tip top shape, making him think he made a stop at one of his private apartments for a replacement, and there were only a few dings in the gold paints. Miles away from how Peter last saw him. Mr. Stark turned his eyes on him, and suddenly the euphoric feeling that had been bubbling up inside him since Iron-Man had first appeared in the sky began to overflow in the form of a frankly dizzying amount of word vomit.

“Mr. Stark, oh my God, you’re alive! You will not _believe_ the past six months, I mean, I was _stuck_ in _space_ for _20 days!_ And Nebula, the blue lady, she took care of me and made sure I didn’t, like, die, but Ms. Carol saved us! And she flew us back here! And I’ve been staying with Pepper, and I met Harley- he’s around here, by the way, he made his own suit in your lab, we used your lab, by the way, sorry- and then we figured out how to _time travel_ and-”

He was cut off, _thank God,_ by arms encircling his shoulders and pulling him into a strong and sturdy chest. Peter melted into the embrace, breathing in the scent of cologne and motor oil and aftershave that followed Mr. Stark around wherever he went. He buried his head in the man’s shoulder, suppressing a sob as Mr. Stark planted a kiss on his cheek.

The battle still raged on around them, but for a moment it seemed to fade away to white noise, the only indication of passing time being the steady beating of Mr. Stark’s heart. It was infinite, and yet not enough. He wanted more, but the sudden roar of battle behind him reminded them that they didn’t have that luxury, and they broke apart. Mr. Stark took his face in his hands and locked eyes with him.

“I told you they’d need you Pete. I knew you’d figure it out. God, I’m proud of you.” He smiled, and flicked a tear from Peter’s cheek, just like he had done on Titan.

Peter smiled back, thinking _I really need to stop crying ‘cause it’s starting to get annoying._ “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

The man choked on a laugh, his own tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “You’re never going to call me Tony, are you?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Old habits die hard, _Mr. Stark.”_

It earned him one last laugh before an alien ran at them and soured the moment. Mr. Stark shot him with a repulsor and took off to the sky, though he stayed only a couple feet above Peter’s head.

“Alright kid, I know I’ve been gone a spell, but the same rules apply: you stay on my six, got it? No straying too far from the pack.”

“Didn’t plan on it. Who else is gonna save your ass if you get in trouble?”

“Okay, first, language, I’m the adult here, I’m the only one who gets to curse, and second, if I’m in trouble-”

“-then it’s _my_ job to get him out of it. I’ve only been cleaning up his messes for a decade or so.”

Pepper Potts, in her blue and gold armor, knocked a ship out of the sky before it could fire its missiles at Mr. Stark’s head. Peter heard him suck in a breath through the com.

“Pep, it’s a little rough out here, you should be, uh, not here-”

“I’m not going to leave you boys alone, Tony. I’ll be fine. Just watch yourself and Peter and Harley-”

Thrusters fired up nearby, and Harley shot towards them like a bullet. “Sorry, two things. First, glad you’re back Tony, a little late to the party, but that’s only to be expected from The Tony Stark, and second, I can watch myself, thanks, I know you two weren’t here to see it, but I _did_ take on Thanos-”

“Even more reason to keep an eye on you, since you’re displaying suicidal tendencies-”

“It was Peter’s idea!”

“And if Peter jumped off a bridge, would you?”

“Oh my _God-”_

Beneath his mask, Peter smiled. Tony was back. Everyone was back. They had an army. They had the stones. They had a shot at winning this thing.

_We’re in the endgame now._

Peter’s smile broadened.

_This time, we’re not going to lose._

\---

Someone had decided that it was a good idea to play keep-away with the Infinity Gauntlet.

Peter had gotten for a while, and had run around in circles like a chicken without a head until he’d passed it off to Carol. He’d lost sight of it after that.

Mr. Stark was fighting Thanos. Carol had been holding her own for a while, but when it became clear that she’d needed some back up, Mr. Stark had stepped in, ordering Peter to stay back. Pepper and Harley were fighting a ways away, back to back, shooting at any alien they could see. Peter kept an eye out for any signs of trouble, but they seemed to be holding their own for now, and he preferred to keep his eyes on Mr. Stark, anyway.

The battle had only begun fifteen minutes ago, but it had taken its toll. Bodies were strewn across the valley, some allies, some enemies, but all very very dead. The Wakandan troops had lost a significant portion of their fighters, having been the bulk of the force leading the charge against Thanos. He’d caught glimpses of a blue cape and dark armor, but it was becoming exceedingly rare to see a Wakandan soldier on the battlefield.

Wizards were popping in and out of existence everywhere, and seemed to be holding their own, at least for now. Dr. Strange would sometimes lead them in a coordinated attack against a group of Thanos’ forces, but other than those few instances the man kept to himself, doing his part to ward off any major attacks.

He’d also seen Nebula, fighting on the battlefield next to a green woman, back-to-back, like it was second nature. His first thought had been, _oh shit, she’s still pretending,_ and had swung over to land a kick to her face, effectively knocking her to the ground. She’d swung around, raised her arms to protect her face, and stared at him. “Peter?”

“No way, can’t trick me this time, I’m sending you back to 2014-”

“Wait, Peter, it is me, I promise. We were on the _Benatar_ together. You taught me how to play the last letter game.” She’d said, and perhaps if Peter hadn’t been so tired, he would have been more cautious, but he’d wanted so desperately for Nebula to be alive that he was willing to believe her even if it was a lie.

He’d looked at her skeptically. “You’re sure you’re you?”

“Yes.”

That had been enough for him, and the hug that followed was even more proof that his Nebula was back where she belonged. Before they’d parted, she had grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look her in the eyes.

“Do not do anything reckless, Peter. Please.”

“I’ll try, but you know me.”

“I do. It is why I worry.”

“Love you, too.” He’d webbed away before she could reply, but the happily surprised look on her face was enough of an answer for him anyway.

Now, he glanced over in Nebula’s direction to see her driving one of her blades into a creature's chest, the green woman (her sister, he realized now) at her back. They were keeping close as well, and every once in a while he caught her look his way. He’d have to tell her off for helicoptering him later, but for now, it was nice to know there were people watching his back if he went down.

Suddenly, Peter’s spidey senses flared. He jerked around just in time to see Thanos place the power stone in the gauntlet, and for the stones to flash brightly as the set of six was completed. Lightning raced up Thanos’ skin, and he raised his hand, fingers closing- 

Mr. Stark lunged forward, grabbing the gauntlet. Peter was right behind him. Thanos kneed Mr. Stark in the stomach. When that had no effect, he threw a punch. Mr. Stark caught it in his hand. Thanos grabbed his arm instead, and flung him across the field. Mr. Stark skidded to a stop a couple feet away, coughing. 

Peter noticed three things, then, as he watched Mr. Stark rise to his knees.

  1. There was no more lightning on Thanos’ skin.



  1. Mr. Stark’s hand was glowing.



  1. His spider senses _screamed._



His eyes zeroed in on the stones as the slid up Mr. Stark’s arm, and suddenly he was moving.

_“NO!!!”_

The next second, he was at Mr. Stark’s side, grabbing him around the waist and leaping into the air, propelling them across the battlefield. Thanos roared behind them, but they were already long gone.

Mr. Stark struggled in Peter’s arms, the stones stuck halfway up his forearm, pulsing in the dim light of the battlefield. _There’s still time._

He set them down just as Mr. Stark regained his wits. “Kid-”

“I’m not letting you use those stones-”

“Thanos’ army-”

“We can win-”

“People will _die-”_

_“So will you!”_

The man stilled. Peter was panting, fingers clenched at his side, _willing_ Mr. Stark to understand without him needing to say it.

He didn’t, of course.

“Peter…” Mr. Stark sighed, at a loss, “when you have the power to help, and then you don’t? Then the bad things happen because of you. Remember that?”

He gritted his teeth against the tears. “ _Yes,_ but-”

“I can get rid of his whole army, Pete. Save thousands of lives. Save _your_ life. I can’t pass that up.”

_He’s right. You’d do the same for him._

_Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shutupshutup “SHUT UP!”_

Mr. Stark jumped, watching as Peter lost his battle against his tears and smacked a hand over his mouth, trying in vain to quiet his wretched sobs. He moved his fingers to his hair, gripping the wild strands there in desperation.

“The army… we can win, I know it, please, just… if you use the stones, you’ll-you’ll-I… we _just got you back,_ and Pepper and Rhodey and Harley and me…. I just… I- _I can’t lose you again…”_

He squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the creak of metal warp as he balled his fists. Peter knew Mr. Stark was right, he was _always_ right. But still…

“There has to be another way,” whispered Peter, looking up. Mr. Stark’s face contorted in pain and grief. He reached forward and pulled Peter against his chest.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry, I don’t want this, I _never_ wanted this, but,” he sucked in a shaky breath, and Peter realized he was crying too, “I need to do this. For Pep, for Rhodey, Harley, _you,_ I-” Mr. Stark choked on his next words, and his hand tightened where his fingers carded through Peter’s hair. _“I can’t lose you either.”_

There was nothing Peter could say to that; the man’s mind was made up. Were their positions reversed, Peter would be making the same decisions, speaking the same words, crying the same tears. He _understood,_ and that made it just that much more heartbreaking.

Mr. Stark kissed his hairline before pulling away. “Time to go, Pete.”

His forehead burned where Mr. Stark’s lips had touched. His whole _body_ burned from the loss of contact, but he forced his hands to remain at his side as Mr. Stark stepped back, raising his arm. The stones pulsed eagerly within his armor, waiting to slide into place. To steal a soul.

“Mr. Stark?”

Peter found his eyes, and held them. _Please don’t make this goodbye._

“If you can, if you have the chance… come back to us. Don’t… don’t give up without a fight.”

The man watched him for a moment, grief and pain and fear and _love_ swirling together behind brown eyes, before settling again, cool and confident. He smirked.

“Have you met me, kid? I’m the most stubborn son of a bitch in the universe. Plus,” the stones slithered towards Mr. Stark’s knuckles, done with waiting, “I’m Iron Man.”

The stones clicked into place, and light exploded across Mr. Stark’s arm, tracing his veins as trails of color snaked up his arm. He cried out in pain and dropped to a knee. Peter started toward him, but Mr. Stark lifted his good arm to stop him, panting from the exertion. Halting, Peter stared, mesmerized, as Mr. Stark rose to his feet again, clenching his jaw through the pain. He turned to grin at Peter, the stones glimmering from his gauntlet, fingers poised. Lightning cut gashes through his suit, carving a path to Mr. Stark’s throat.

“Peter.”

The boy ripped his gaze from the stones to the man who wielded them. The smile he wore was genuine, if a bit sad.

“I meant what I said, kid. You’re the best of us. You’ll change the world some day, Pete. I’m just glad I was around to see some of your genius,”

The awe turned to dread in his stomach. “You said you wouldn’t-”

“I’m not giving up, I promise. But if I don’t make it, I want you to know.” Mr. Stark’s eyes turned soft despite the patterns flickering up his cheek. “You’re my kid, Pete. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a son. You, Pep, Rhodey, Harley- you’re my family.”

Peter choked. “Mine too.”

The man chuckled, then winced. “Ha. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’ve got some snapping to do. And kid?” Mr. Stark looked at him. “I love you. Remember that.”

Iron Man raised his arm and snapped his fingers. The world went white.

\---

When Peter’s vision returned, the sounds of battle around him had gone silent, leaving the valley desolate in its devastation. The sky was bathed in blood and smoke; reds and oranges clashed with black clouds threatening to smother the horizon.

Through the mountains of rubble, masses of dust drifted into the air, streaming upwards to take their place amongst the smoke. An eerie sense of calm stole over the battlefield. It felt as though the world held its breath, waiting for time to resume its endless march. 

A strangled cry broke the quiet. _Mr. Stark._

The suit was destroyed. Deep, jagged lines tore through the chest plate, leaving it sparking and broken beyond repair. Parts of the outer casing had chipped off the frame, big enough that not even the nanotech could repair it. The beautiful red and gold had been largely replaced by a dull, silver mess of fractured framework. Only the arc reactor at its core remained intact, glowing in defiance of the ruined metal surrounding it. 

Peter’s eyes caught on Mr. Stark’s right arm, and he choked on his next inhale.

It wasn’t an _arm_ anymore. The armor surrounding it had been decimated, leaving charred flesh and bone in its wake. No hint of tan skin was left in sight. Burns engulfed the whole limb, extending across the shoulder and up Mr. Stark’s neck, covering his ear and blackening his hair, just barely missing his eye. Bits of exposed muscles peeked out from the blackened tissue. Nothing bled; it had all been cauterized. Dark crevasses stole up the deadened arm where the stones’ power had dug their way into Mr. Stark’s skin, cutting to the bone. Thin trails of smoke rose from the cracks.

He was torn from his stupor when Mr. Stark coughed out another breath from his spot on the ground. Peter started. 

“Mr. Stark!” He dropped to the ground next to the man, steadying him as he leaned back against a pile of rubble. His eyes were glazed, focusing on nothing. The only thing telling Peter he was alive was the shallow breaths escaping from his lips.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, you gotta look at me, come on, focus on me, Mr. Stark, please,” he begged, kneeling in front of the man’s face. It took a moment, but he finally managed to bring his eyes up to Peter. “There you go, look at me, stay awake, okay, you can’t close your eyes.”

“Pete…”

Peter huffed out a laugh. “I’m here. Mr. Stark. You did it, we won. You saved us. But you gotta hold on, okay, just hold on-”

Mr. Stark coughed again, and red trickled from the corner of his mouth. Peter’s blood pounded in his ears.

“Kid…”

“It’s okay, you’re okay, just hang on, please, you can’t leave yet, you promised, Pepper’s waiting for us, you can’t leave her yet, and I’ve still gotta go to college, you’re going to help me get into MIT, right? I can’t do it without you, Mr. Stark, you gotta hold on-”

Mr. Stark’s eyes drifted shut, and Peter began to panic, shaking his shoulder and patting his cheek. The only response was the flicker of the arc reactor as it struggled to stay online.

“No, _no,_ Mr. Stark, please, you gotta wake up, you promised you’d fight back, you _promised,_ please, God, please, wake up, please.”

Nothing. The man was barely breathing. Peter couldn’t see through the tears, so he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled Mr. Stark against his chest, cradling the man’s head even as it lolled listlessly against him. 

Peter tilted his head and looked toward the sky, crying out even as blackness consumed the edges of his vision. His screams echoed across the battlefield, disturbing the blanket of quiet that had settled over it since Mr. Stark had used the stones. Peter clutched at the remains of the Iron Man suit, falling back against the pile of rubble as his strength slowly left him. He gave one last sob before falling into unconsciousness.

\---

A child cried for help. Terrible, horrible, blood-curdling screams echoed across the silent valley. Lost and alone amidst the destruction. Afraid.

The heroes did what any heroes would do.

They ran to help.

\---

Peter drifted, utterly indifferent to the world around him. He felt like he was floating, aware but unaware. Voices slid in and out of focus. It didn’t matter; the words were meaningless to him anyway. He knew nothing.

Finally, something broke through the fog.

“Peter, baby, it’s time to wake up now, okay? I… I’m waiting right here for you, we’re all waiting for you to wake up, okay? We’re right here…”

He tried to shake off the sound, but once it broke through, other things found their way into his bubble of quiet.

A monitor with its steady beep. 

His hand, clasped tightly between someone’s palms.

An IV in the crook of his elbow. 

Soft blankets across his legs and chest, cocooning him in warmth.

Peter scrunched up his brow, swallowing the dryness in his throat. His tongue felt like sandpaper when he licked his lips.

“...Peter?”

He tried to talk, but instead of _Hi, May,_ he wound up saying “Hnng Mmmm.”

There was a small laugh at his right shoulder, and Peter turned his head to face the sound. A hand started to card through his hair, and he hummed his approval. Another laugh from his right.

Peter blinked his eyes open, squinting against the dim fluorescent lights. Next to him, in a small plastic chair, sat his Aunt May, hair pulled back in a bun and dressed in a grey hoodie and yoga pants, with her gym sneakers tied tightly on her feet. Her face was blotchy, and strands of hair had fallen in front of her eyes, but to Peter, she had never looked more beautiful.

“May…”

“I’m here baby, it’s okay, it’s all over now.”

May squeezed his hand, and Peter squeezed back, trying to cram all of his fear and anger and joy, and relief into the gesture. She seemed to understand, because she smiled brighter, and wiped away a stray tear that had begun to trek its way down her face.

“How are you feeling? The doctor said it might be a day or two before you’re fully healed, but he didn’t know how quick your healing is, so it was hard to say…”

He examined himself silently. His ribs ached, but nothing too major; the fracture must have already healed, and now it was only bruised. His ankles and right wrist ached as well, but he doubted that it would impede his walking. What really bothered him was his head. It was pounding fiercely. If Peter focused on it too much, a stab of pain would flare behind his eyes. He groaned.

“M’head,” he mumbled. Beside him, May nodded.

“You have a concussion. Dr. Cho thought it would hurt when you woke up. Do you want me to call her?”

Peter started to shake his head, stopping when a burst of pain ricocheted behind his eyes. “No. Just… water.”

“Got it, hang on.” May took a pitcher from the side table and poured some water into a plastic cup. “Here you go, sweetheart. Wait a sec, let’s sit you up first.”

She helped him up, fixing the bed and settling him back down on some pillows. Peter drank eagerly. The dryness in his throat receded. “Thanks.”

May smiled softly. “Better?”

“Yeah, better.”

“Good. You’ve been sleeping for three days.”

Peter stared at her, eyes widening. _“Three days?!”_

She shrugged nonchalantly, but the worry lines gave her away. “I guess you needed it. I’ve only been here for a day or so, Pepper has been watching you until I could get here.” At his confused expression, she added, “We’re at a backup Avengers base that Tony built, in case anything happened to the Compound.”

_CompoundThanosStonesSnapTONY-_

“Oh my God, _Mr. Stark,_ is he okay, is he _alive?_ Oh God, I left him there, I _left him alone, how could I do that to him,_ oh God… oh _God…”_

May grabbed his shoulder. It grounded him. “Peter, hey, breathe with me baby, it’s okay-”

_“_ I left him to _die_ oh my God- _”_

“Peter! Peter, you need to calm down, please, baby, it’s okay, you’re okay…”

_“It’s okay, kid, you’re okay-”_

He clutched at his head, the tears burning but refusing to fall. May kept talking, her hand on his shoulders, but it was all white noise now. He was drowning in memories.

_Mr. Stark, the stones slithering up his hand._

_How his arms felt as they encircled Peter._

_His smile, just before he snapped his fingers._

“I need-I need-I need-”

His words choked off, and in lieu of finishing his sentence, he tore out his IV and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stumbled slightly, placing a steadying hand on the bed for support even as he moved toward the door. Behind him, May called out his name, but it was distant, and the meaning behind the word was lost to him anyway.

_I let him die, I let him die, he’s dead, dead, dead, all because of me, my fault, my fault, MY FAULT-_

He shoved the door open and pitched into the hallway, nearly toppling over in his haste.

_He’s dead dead dead, all because of me, my fault, my fault he’s dead dead dead-_

Something collided with him, and he went down, knocking the back of his head against the linoleum. Pain exploded behind his retinas, and for a moment all he saw was static. Hands gripped his shoulders again, then moved to cradle the back of his head. He batted them away, but they refused to move, so Peter covered his ears and curled up on the floor, squeezing his eyes shut.

_Deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead-_

Arms slipped under his shoulders and knees, and suddenly he was in the air, swaying slightly as someone carried him. The movement made him nauseous, but when he opened his mouth to say so, all that came out was _“Dead dead dead dead dead-”_

There was a brief pause in which the arms encircling him shifted, and then he was moving again, slower this time. He turned his face into the solid warmth carrying him, moving his arms so that he could grip the person’s shirt instead of his ears. Noise filtered back in slowly, but it was all gibberish to him still.

“-over here-”

“-ripped his IV out-”

“-hit his head-”

“-oh Pete-”

He was lowered onto something soft, the arms retracting so that another hand could take their place, pulling Peter into someone’s side. He leaned into the warmth. The hand swiped at the tears that had finally started to flow, and it hurt, _it hurt,_ because Mr. Stark did that, and Mr. Stark was dead dead dead, and now he would never wipe away Peter’s tears again.

“Hey buddy.”

_No no no, please don’t do this to me, please-_

“It’s okay, Pete. I’m right here, listen to my voice.”

_“No, stop, please, I can’t-”_

“It’s okay, I’m right here, just take a few breaths, okay? Come on, in through the nose, out through the mouth. You got this kid, I know you can do it.”

Peter shook his head even as he sucked in a breath. He never did know how to refuse that voice. The hand continued to swipe away errant tears, slowly coaxing Peter’s head from where it was tucked into his chest. He found himself leaning into the touch.

“Good job, Pete, you’re doing great. Nice and easy, just keep doing that, there you go…”

The air was finally getting to his lungs. He gulped it in gratefully, waiting for the fog to finally dissipate. His head came to rest on the warm shoulder next to him, soaking in its heat. The person next to him chuckled, and the hand moved to pull Peter closer to their chest.

“Think you can open your eyes for me, kid? I’ve missed those baby browns.”

No, _no,_ because that would make this real. He’d open his eyes, and Mr. Stark would be gone, and he couldn’t handle that, that pain. Peter saw stars as he furiously shook his head. The person next to him sighed, hugging him tighter and brushing back the curls from his face..

“Okay Pete, you take your time. We’ll be here.”

Peter let out a long breath and melted, finally letting himself relax. He was being silly, no one could make him open his eyes, after all, but hearing the confirmation settled something in his stomach. Leaning into the person at his side and clutching at their shirt, Peter let himself drift off.

_Let me have this, just for a little longer. Please, just a little while longer…_

\---

He woke to his brain trying to hammer its way out of his skull, a dry throat, and a blanket draped over him.

Peter groaned, turning into the warmth at his side as the last dregs of sleep drained from his body. A hand that had been scratching his scalp idly paused, and he moaned at the loss. The scratching resumed, and he leaned into the touch gratefully.

When he finally managed to blink his eyes open, bright white fluorescent lights greeted him, and he squinted against their glare. He was in a hospital room, complete with machines beeping to his left and the sickly sweet smell of chemicals. The walls and ceiling were painted white, and they hurt Peter’s eyes if he looked at them too long, so he focused on other things in the room: the blue plastic chairs on either side of the hospital bed, the beeping machines displaying all different numbers and charts on the monitors, the massive flatscreen TV on the wall in front of him, and the baby blue curtain to his left, just past the machines, separating the bed from the rest of the room.

He sat up, brow furrowing. It was all familiar and foreign at the same time. He could have sworn-

His breath caught. The stones. Passing out. Waking up. His panic attack. Mr. Stark’s voice, urging him to breathe, open his eyes, to _take your time, we’ll be here-_

“Breathe, kiddo, I’m right here.”

He was scared to look, but he needed to know. Slowly, Peter dragged his eyes over to the person next to him, trying to prepare himself for whatever he might find there.

Beside him, Mr. Stark sat against the headboard, smiling, a beacon of light in the never-ending darkness. On his right, where there was once an arm, only empty air remained.

_“Mr. Stark,”_ he breathed. 

The man’s smile widened. “Hey Pete. Try not to pass out on me this time, I’ve got too many gray hairs as it is.”

Peter barely heard him. He reached out and clamped a hand on Mr. Stark’s wrist, feeling the skin under his fingers, warm, real, _alive._

“Mr. Stark…” he repeated.

“I’m right here kid, I’m okay.” He reached up and put his hand on Peter’s upper arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth soothingly. “It’s okay. I’m alive. You did it, you saved me.”

Peter stared at him. _Real, he’s real, I can touch him, I can see him, he’s real._

Mr. Stark’s smile began to fade. “Pete? Did a few of your wires get crossed up there? Give me something here, kid, anything.”

For a moment, Peter thought his wires really _did_ get crossed, because all his mouth could do was open and close like a fish. Mr. Stark was still looking at him, he needed to say something, dammit, he needed to _say something!_

But words wouldn’t come, so, since using his voice was out, he did the only other thing he could think of. He launched himself at Mr. Stark, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and burying his head into his shoulder. He heard a small _oomph!_ as the air left both their lungs, but a second later Mr. Stark chuckled, and brought up his arm to hold him as well, squeezing tightly, as if scared something would tear them apart again.

“I’ve got you kid, I’ve got you.”

Peter let out a watery laugh and let his chin fall on the man’s shoulder. “I know,” he whispered.

They stayed like that, listening to a clock tick from somewhere in the room, until a door on the left swung open, and even then, Peter only shifted slightly to catch the face of whoever had entered as they came around the curtain.

Pepper was carrying a StarkPad, idly scanning its screen, when she finally glanced up at them, her eyes first finding Peter, then Tony, before settling back on Peter. Her mouth twitched up in amusement. 

“Good to see you awake, Peter. You scared us earlier.”

Peter felt his cheeks heat at her words, and squirmed a little in his spot next to Mr. Stark. “Sorry.”

Mr. Stark flicked his arm. “Nothing to be sorry for, kid.” Peter rolled his eyes, and got another flick, this time in the center of his forehead. He jerked back, rubbing at the spot and glaring at the perpetrator. Mr. Stark shrugged, a small smile playing across his features, before turning back to Pepper. “How’s the rest of the team? Still kicking around?”

“Tony, you asked me that an hour ago.” 

“A lot can happen in an hour, Pep.”

She sighed. “They’re fine. Nebula’s getting some repairs done on her arm still, but she wanted Peter to take a look when he woke up.” She turned to him, quirking a brow. “You up for that, Pete?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” at their questioning look, he added, “I worked on her arm a little when we were in space, and when we got back, too.”

Mr. Stark ruffled his hair. “Already making a name for yourself, kid? You’re gonna run me out of business.”

“Mr. Stark, you’re the head of a fortune 500 company with billions of dollars of revenue coming in every month and locations in six continents across the globe. Plus, you’re Iron Man,” Peter said, “no one is running you out of business.”

“O ye of little faith,” replied Mr. Stark. He and Pepper shared a look that Peter couldn’t decipher, and before he could push for answers the door swung open again.

“Peter!”

“Hey, Ma-oof!”

May slammed into him, pushing him back against the headboard. Peter wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. Her hair tickled his nose, and Peter chuckled. He’d forgotten how long her hair was; she’d always complain about it when she’d find loose strands all over the floor. ‘Shedding,’ she’d called it. Peter asked her, once, why she didn’t just cut in all off. Her only response was to sigh and shrug, twirling a lock of hair around her finger and gazing at it wistfully. 

“I missed your hair,” he told her.

She barked out a laugh. “Yeah? How about the person underneath the hair, did you miss her too?”

There was a lot he could say to that. He could deflect it, pretend to miss the point, or he could find some witty remark and stop that line of conversation before it got out of hand, but he found that he wanted neither of those things. He didn’t want to pretend he was okay, not now, not when he had the chance to _be_ okay again.

So he said, “Yeah, I missed her a lot. I missed her hair, and her cooking, and her perfume, and her clothes. I missed talking to her, and I missed her poking me when we watched movies on the sofa. And I really missed her hugs, they were the best. I just really, really missed my Aunt May.”

The room was silent, which meant that May’s quiet sob was heard easily. Peter squeezed her tighter, and she returned the favor. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pepper smiling.

May pulled back, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “You know I love you, right?”

Peter took her hand and entwined their fingers. “I love you too.”

Behind Pepper, someone coughed.

Harley had his arms crossed over his chest, watching him with an amused expression. “Hey, Pete. Is it too late to get in on this hug business?”

“Do atoms combine in thermonuclear fusion?”

“Not according to you.”

“Shut up, come here.”

Despite his lanky build, Harley had a strong grip, and for a second Peter thought his ribs would break again. “Harley, let up a little, jeez!”

He pulled away. “You’re Spider-Man, you can take it.”

"My ribs just healed, man."

"Yeah, in _three days._ I knew you healed fast, but damn, Pete. Have you ever, like, tested it out before?"

Mr. Stark sat forward and clamped his hand over Peter's mouth. “Nuh-uh, gonna stop you right there. We are _not_ testing Peter’s healing factor, end of discussion.”

“Mmph!”

“Peter, no.”

“Tony-”

“Don’t start, Harley, you’re in enough trouble as it is.”

“What, why?!”

Mr. Stark gave him a look. “Building your own suit so you can help fight an army of aliens without any prior fighting training, for starters.”

Harley matched his gaze. “My suit saved your ass-”

“Language, Harley,” Pepper said, not looking up from her StarkPad.

“-and you know it. Quit being a helicopter parent.”

Mr. Stark removed his hand from Peter’s mouth to lay it over his chest. “Me? A helicopter parent? I’m sorry I take a personal interest in you living until your ninety. Next time an army of aliens appears in the sky, I’ll give you a call so you can take the next bullet to the brain.”

Harley rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah, you care about me, I care about you, we’re both suicidal idiots, love you too. We done now?”

In lieu of a verbal response, Mr. Stark tugged Harley into a hug. Peter glanced away, giving them a cursory sense of privacy, but he heard their whispered exchange all the same.

“I really missed you, Tony.”

“Me too, Tennessee. Thank you.”

“Anytime you need me, I’m there.”

“I know.”

They broke apart, Harley surreptitiously wiping a tear away and Mr. Stark’s eyes shining. Peter felt his heart warm at the sight. He had a feeling that he would be seeing a lot more of Harley in the future, if the fond look Mr. Stark was giving him was any indication.

A hand settled on his shoulder. Peter glanced over at Mr. Stark, who was settling back against the mattress.

“So,” he said, “are you two crazy kids going to fill me in on what I missed, or do I have to drag it out of you?”

Peter looked at Harley, then Pepper, and felt his smile grow ever so slightly. “You sure you wanna hear it all? It’s a pretty long story.”

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow and spread his arm. “Look at me, kid. Does it look like I’m going anywhere anytime soon?” 

Peter laughed. “Not if we have anything to say about it.”

“Then start talking.”

So he did.

\---

EPILOGUE

\---

The New Avengers Compound was, in true Tony Stark fashion, very big and very shiny.

To be fair, it had been a joint effort between Pepper and Mr. Stark. Peter could see Pepper’s influence in the sleek design of the lobby’s reception area and the floor to ceiling windows, but Mr. Stark’s fingerprint was equally as noticeable in the large gold Avengers symbol in the center of the floor, the high tech elevator systems throughout the building, and, of course, FRIDAY, who ran background checks on everyone who entered the building. 

It was perfect, at least to Peter.

It had only been a few months since Thanos’ attack on Earth. The world was still recovering. Children were finding parents, brothers were finding sisters, lovers were finding lovers, and people were fighting to pick up the pieces of ruined lives. It was a lot to take in, but they were managing alright. Children that had been placed in foster care were being reunited with their families every day, and it wasn’t uncommon to see a tearful reunion in the middle of the street. Everyone was doing their best to repair the hole that the Snap had left in its wake.

School had not yet started up again. It had barely started up again before the Battle for Infinity (as Mr. Stark had coined it), but now, with the sudden influx of students, they’d had to shut down and reorganize once again. So instead of walking into the Compound with textbooks in his backpack, he carried a water bottle, sweatshirt, and novel. The sun was beating down on him, but it did nothing to stop the December chill in the air, and he was grateful to walk through the heated entrance of the Compound. 

“Welcome, Peter, how has your day been?”

He glanced up at the ceiling. “I’m good, thanks FRIDAY. Where’s Mr. Stark?”

“In his lab. Would you like me to tell him you’re here?”

“Yeah, tell him I’m on my way, thanks FRI.”

“My pleasure, Peter. Tell me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

He made his way over to the reception desk, signing in while exchanging greetings with the receptionist, before turning towards the private elevators and riding up to Mr. Stark’s private lab. It was in the penthouse, in the dead center of the Compound, making it one of the most secure rooms in the building. There was an entrance from the roof, built so that Peter could get in after a night of patrol, but only Peter and Mr. Stark could enter it. Other than that, the only other way into the lab was from Mr. Stark’s private elevators. 

The doors opened with a pleasant _ding!_ and Peter stepped into the room. Mr. Stark was at his lab table, tinkering with some pieces of nanotech through a magnifying glass, his brand new red and gold arm glinting under the lights. “Hey kid, how’s Fred?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I know you know his name, Mr. Stark, you can stop pretending you don’t.”

He shrugged, saying nothing, but Peter can see the soft smile playing across his lips as he set his bag down and walked to his side. Mr. Stark glanced at him, checking him over. It’d become a habit since the battle for Mr. Stark to look him over for injuries every time he stepped into a room. With anyone else, it would annoy Peter, but with Mr. Stark it was comforting. Plus, it would be a little hypocritical of Peter to complain about it, considering that he does the same thing to Mr. Stark.

Peter looked down at the lab table. “Repairs?”

“Yup,” Mr. Stark said, “those things Blueberry dragged through did a number on me.”

“Her name is Nebula.”

“Not to me, underoos.”

He shook his head and wandered away toward his own lab table to the far right. Mr. Stark had built a lab for him and Harley, Peter’s on the right, Harley’s on the left. Though they were smaller in comparison, they were outfitted with the same tech as Mr. Stark’s. His Iron Spider suit had its own case in the corner, next to a few upgrades he had been tinkering with over the past few months. He picked one up (new web shooters, reinforced so that they could be used as metal bracers on his forearms) and started to tinker with it, immersing himself in his project as Def Leppard played in the background.

“Kid.”

Peter jumped, whipping his head around to Mr. Stark. He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a bemused grin on his face. “Dinner’s ready. We’ve been summoned.”

“Whaaaa?” He glanced at the clock and felt his jaw drop. “Oh my God it’s eight o’clock?!”

“Yeah kiddo, you’ve been in here for four hours.” Mr. Stark put a hand on his shoulder. “Time to feed that metabolism of yours.”

Peter stood and stretched, feeling his muscles protest at being forced into a hunched position for so long. The bracers were nearly finished; all he had to do was test them out. But that could wait for now. If he wasn’t at the table, May would drag him out of the lab by his hair. It had happened once before, and he was _not_ looking forward to a repeat performance.

“What’s for dinner?” They strode into the elevator, Mr. Stark leaning back against the wall.

Mr. Stark glanced up at the ceiling. “Take us up, FRI,” he said, then added, “Pep made her penne vodka. May tried to help, but ever since the debacle with the meatballs Pepper won’t let her near the kitchen.”

“Thank God.”

The elevator opened to the common room. To the left, Colonel Rhodes was sitting at the table, a drink in hand, going over some papers on a clipboard. He looked up when they entered.

“All work, no play, Rhodey?” Mr. Stark swiped the drink out of Colonel Rhodes’ hand and took a swig. “What happened to the Rodeo Rhodey of ‘87?”

The Colonel pried his glass from Mr. Stark’s hand. “That was never a thing.”

“It was a thing.”

“Do you want me to start regaling everyone on your college exploits?”

“Don’t taint the youth, Colonel, I thought you were better than that.”

“You tainted me, I’m just passing it along, buddy.”

Mr. Stark smiled at him. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, honeybear.”

Peter walked over to May, who was washing dishes and humming along to some music FRIDAY was playing over the speakers. “Banned from the kitchen?”

Pepper bumped him as she walked by with a bowl of pasta. “If I have anything to say about, then yes.”

May glared at her, but there was no real heat behind it. “It was one time!”

“May, there were meatballs on the ceiling.”

“I’ve gotta agree with Pepper there. Just leave the cooking to the professionals.”

“I could ground you for life, you know.”

Peter kissed her on the cheek. “Love you too.”

Mr. Stark and Pepper set the table, and Peter took his place between Mr. Stark, who sat at the head of the table, and May, who was at his right. Pepper was across from him, laughing at something Colonel Rhodes said, digging her fork into pasta with gusto. FRIDAY provided music and the occasional input to Mr. Stark’s tales from on high.

The conversation was good; with him and May living at the Compound, Mr. Stark had made it a point to sit down and have a communal dinner every night. It wasn’t always easy, with Stark Industries business, random attacks on the city, and Colonel Rhodes working in DC most of the time, but they generally managed to get everybody together at least once a week. Harley had joined when he was there, but he’d gone home for winter break to be with his mom and Ava. Even Happy would sit in on occasion.

Slowly, they talked their way through dinner and onto the couch. Pepper picked a movie ( _The Nightmare Before Christmas,_ as it was), and they settled into their spots with some hot chocolate and marshmallows. Peter hummed along to “This is Halloween” as ghosts swirled on screen. 

An arm settled around his shoulders. He looked up to see Mr. Stark watching the screen, a mug of hot chocolate cradled in his hand, utterly impassive save for the small upturn of his lips. Peter beamed at him and curled into his side. It was childish, sure, but after everything, he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to be embarrassed.

The arm tightened, equally as possessive as Peter felt. Two years ago, this would have been impossible. Peter would have been too star-struck to even consider leaning into Iron Man, never mind curling up on the couch with him. Besides, even if he had wanted to, he didn’t think Mr. Stark had been quite ready for that leap either. No, what they had had to be built, brick by brick, until it was an unshakable foundation that could never be felled. 

It was easy, now, to lean his head on Mr. Stark’s shoulder. It was easy to crack a joke about Jack Skellington’s interior decorating. It was easy to let Mr. Stark brush aside his curls and flick him in the ear. It was easy, and it was right.

Outside, snow had begun to fall. The wind whipped through the trees with a high pitched whine. The people outside shivered in the cold, ducking their heads into scarves and jackets and jogging toward their cars or the Compound, anxious to escape the snowflakes that had begun to fall.

Inside, the hot chocolate burned through the mug in Peter’s hand. The fire was roaring in the fireplace. His family was snuggled in blankets, eyes trained on the movie. No one said anything, but nothing needed to be said anyway.

It was cold outside, but nothing could touch the warmth in the room, and as Jack Skellington danced through Christmas, Peter finally felt the last tendrils of frost in his chest melt. He glanced around, eyes skipping from one person to another. _We’re here. We’re real._

He felt Mr. Stark’s eyes on him, and turned to see a little wrinkle of concern in his brow. “Everything okay, Pete?”

He smiled and pressed his cheek into the man’s shoulder.

“Yeah, everything’s great.”

And at least for now, it wasn’t a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, then thank you! I hoped you liked it, it was a labor of love from both of us. Drop a kudo or comment if it pleases you, and thanks again!
> 
> tumblrs:  
> @booksxtvxsupernatural  
> @slowly-losing-my-mind


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